How Did I End Up Here?
by CapCM
Summary: We all know the story of Harry Potter and how he survived an attack by the most feared dark wizard of the age. Of how he destroyed that very same dark wizard by destroying Horcruxes with the help of his friends. He made an enemy of the entire Death Eater army, but there was one of those Death Eaters that was different. Why did Draco Malfoy do what he did? Why did he join them?...
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: We all know the story of Harry Potter. Of how he survived an attack by the most feared dark wizard of the age, and how he defeated that wizard with the help of his friends. He had many enemies, and all of them had different reasons for hating him, and Draco Malfoy was one of those enemies. Why did he hate Harry Potter, really? Why did he try to kill his Headmaster, really? What was he really thinking?**

 **Author's notes: This entire fanfiction is basically a remake of the entire series from Draco Malfoy's first-person point of view. It is definitely not as long, and I gloss over one through five (1-4 are covered in this chapter). The main focus is The Half-Blood Prince and The Deathly Hallows. It is also more film-based than book-based because I personally think that the films did a better job at showcasing Draco, but the books are still, over-all, better than the films, but because it's film-based, there are going to be scenes from the films rewritten for Draco's point of view, though that is not the entire fic. For future, I don't think I wrote Bellatrix's character well, so...yeah. Also, this is my first fanfiction ever. This is going to be multiple chapters, and I already have about twenty chapters written, and there are more to come. I'm going to try to stick to weekly updates until I run out of chapters.**

 **Copyright stuff: Exact quotes are used (That I did NOT make up. Full credit for those quotes is given to Warner Brothers Studios) There is one OC in this: a House Elf named Loft, but I do not own the concept of House Elves or any other character in this fanfiction. No other Copyright infringement intended.**

 **Trigger Warnings: I really don't want this to hit too close to home for people or make anyone uncomfortable, so if you don't think you can handle some of this stuff, do not read.**

 **Depression (briefly mentioned suicidal thoughts included)**

 **Anorexia (I didn't realize until later that I made Draco anorexic. I am not anorexic, so forgive any inaccuracies, and it's more so that he doesn't feel like eating or forgets to)**

 **PTSD (manifesting in the form of nightmares and a hand tremor)**

 **Mild psychological and physical torture (The psychological stuff is VERY brief and only pops up once. The physical stuff is in the form of a** **Cruciatus** **Curse, and there's a little blood. This curse is also used on animals, but you only see it once)**

 **Abuse (This happens around Chapter Twenty. It is clear that Lucius drinks a lot in the seventh film, and Draco tenses a lot around him. My conclusion is that Lucius is a drunk and abuses Draco)**

 **If you guys can survive reading all that, I hope you enjoy! If you hate Draco Malfoy because of what he's done, I hope this fanfiction will change your mind. I have had two friends read it, and both say that they liked it, and one said that it changed her opinion about Draco in the first chapter.**

 **Chapter One**

I blasted through the door of the men's lavatory, tore off my suffocating vest and threw it onto the damp ground. I bent over the sink, staring at my pale face in the mirror.

How did I end up here?

My parents' life was never as good as it could be, and I had always hoped that it would improve. With Potter planning on fighting Voldemort from our First Year, I hoped that my mother and father would finally gain control over their own lives again.

But with that serpent-like dark wizard being back in flesh and bone...there was even less of a chance.

My father always told me of how great Voldemort was. He put me to bed with tales of his "greatness" since before I could speak. I never told my father, but the stories of Voldemort had frightened me to the point where I had nightmares of him coming after us, and I cried in the middle of the night. I couldn't cry in the presence of my father. He'd never hit me. He was harsh at times, but he would never hit me or my mother, but he did other things that made him equally as intimidating when I showed anything but "proper behavior".

But when I turned eleven, Father changed his stories...

He told me how Voldemort had disappeared because of a boy named Harry Potter. I suppose my father's hatred for him is where my contempt for Potter began.

I tried offering my friendship to Harry when we first met five years ago. I was sure that he couldn't be that bad, but he wouldn't have it.

If Potter could defeat such a terrifying wizard like Voldemort as an infant, what would he be able to do once he was trained in magic? I wanted for us to be allies, then, maybe, my family would be more accepting of him. It wasn't likely that they would end their allegiance to Voldemort, but Harry might have been persuaded to be an ally to the Dark Lord. Then neither of them would be destroyed.

But when Potter refused me, everything my father said came flooding back. I saw nothing but the bad in him, noticing only his more the years went by, the more Harry proved my father right.

Potter's only goal was to destroy the most powerful wizard to ever exist, but he had no plan. He didn't care about the destruction he left in his wake.

That young Weasley girl was hurt because of Potter. My father told me the story of how she got a hold of the journal after everything was resolved.

Harry found the journal and slipped it into her cauldron at the book shop. Potter knew that it was connected to Voldemort somehow and gave it to the easiest target he could spot. He thought that it would lead to Voldemort's defeat, and that's all well and good, but that little redhead nearly died. Potter was lucky that she didn't end up like Moaning Myrtle.

Goyle was right that year when he said that Potter was the worst thing to happen to this school since Dumbledore.

During our Third Year, Potter brought those Dementors to the school. If the rumors could be believed, Sirius Black was heard muttering Potter's name in the middle of the night. Then he escaped, and the Dementors appeared.

Those dark creatures affected everyone in the school, so I didn't think that Harry being adversely affected by the Dementor's presence was funny. They were terrifying, and all of us in my train compartment froze when they floated by our door.

There was this unnatural cold and fear inside of me that penetrated so deep that, admittedly, I curled up and cowered in the corner. The only time I had ever felt something else like that was when I was little and my father told me Voldemort's stories of destruction. A fear like that should not be made fun of.

But Crabbe and Goyle thought that that Potter passing out was the most hilarious thing to have ever happened. They laughed about it for the rest of the train ride to Hogwarts and started planning pranks to pull on him.

I managed to talk the two out of most of them by saying that we would get caught, and Crabbe and Goyle were such dimwits that they fell for it. My father has such an influence on the school, that, even if we did pull those pranks on Potter and got caught, getting in trouble would have been the least likely scenario.

I had to keep up some appearances, though. My family's reputation was being slowly tarnished by the rise of Voldemort, but when I was thirteen, if my father had heard of me letting our standing in the community, even a little…

So I pretended that the Hippogryph nearly took my arm off when it swiped at me and tore my sleeve during Hagrid's class. There was some real blood, but who had ever heard of a Malfoy being taken down by a minor scratch?

It was obvious that Harry and his friends thought I was doing it for attention, but it was just the opposite. I diverted the attention of my father away from myself and onto Hagrid with my little act, but it also earned me the attention of my entire class. I didn't have my father watching my every move, which was all that mattered to me at the time, but then Lupin brought that boggart into class, and I was terrified of what I might see. I didn't know if I would see my father or the picture of Voldemort my youthful imagination had conjured up. I played it off to my friends by making fun of the spell used to defeat the boggart, but I almost went weak with relief when I was able to avoid facing the thing.

My life went on normally after that. I went back to being the "Malfoy of Hogwarts". I had it perfect. Everyone in Slytherin loved me, and everyone in Gryffindor hated me, especially Harry and his two friends.

Fine.

I wanted Potter keeping as much distance from me as possible. The farther away he was from me, the less likely he would hurt my family when he faced the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. It seemed like those close to him always ended up hurt or in trouble. Weasley getting injured our First Year, his sister Second Year and his godfather our Third Year.

But the entire Wizarding World changed the year Dumbledore announced the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

The Dark Mark appeared in the sky at the Quidditch match.

Potter somehow managed to get his name into the Goblet of Fire.

Snape and the Durmstrang headmaster snuck off to have loud conversations.

Nothing added up.

Harry coming back from the Maze with Cedric's dead body, shouting that Voldemort was back, made my heart drop into my churning stomach.

He couldn't be back. My father never said that the Dark Lord had died, but why else would he disappear for so long? Why wouldn't he show himself to his loyal followers? I had believed that he was dead, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

The instant I stepped off the train for summer vacation that year, my father caught me by the arm and dragged me away. He gripped me so hard that my arm was tattooed with a hand-shaped bruise for a week, all the while, Potter celebrated his victory over the Tournament and gave away his winnings to those redheaded twins.

Scar Head was swept away by the Weasleys, and I was delivered to our manor where You-Know-Who waited.

He stood in our dining room in thin black robes, his thick snake coiling around his feet. "Thank you, Lucius," he hissed in his breathy voice.

My father lowered his head in a bow and left the room. I gazed after him, panicked. He looked at me sternly before closing the door behind him, telling me not to screw this up for us.

"Draco," his wheezing voice called, sending a chill to my bones.

I slowly turned towards his pale, flattened face as he gestured for me to sit down at the dining table.

I took a shaky breath, trying to calm my trembling nerves, but despite my fear, I moved towards the long table and took a seat.

The Dark Lord followed me, his black robes flowing behind him, as if it was blown by an unfelt wind, and took a chair near me at the side of the table. "Your family has the opportunity to take part in a wonderful event," he breathed. "Your parents have already agreed to be a part of it, and they hope for you to agree as well. You will be an integral part of what I have planned."

He paused and stared at me through his slitted eyes, as if waiting for me to say something, but I froze, unsure of what to say, or if I was supposed to say anything at all. It took everything in me to keep the look of terror off of my face.

Voldemort's large pet snake slithered up to me and ran itself along my shoe. It seemed like it was threatening me, trying to coerce me into agreement, but what would I be agreeing to?

"How could I help…. exactly?" my voice cracking slightly as I glanced down at the dangerous beast wrapping itself around my ankle.

"You are close with Harry Potter," he wheezed, raising his hand from his chair's armrest and reaching towards the floor. His long snake raised its head to meet his long-fingered hand. "You would keep me informed on his dealings."

I didn't respond. I stared back at him, frozen.

"It is your choice, Draco, whether or not you want to join us, but remember what your parents expect of you," he continued, ignoring my silence.

The Dark Lord pulled his bone-like wand out of his darkened sleeve and with a wave of the instrument, Apparated out of the room, taking his dangerous pet with him.

I slumped into the seat, unable to hide my overwhelming emotions. My mind raced, replaying the short conversation.

He was right in a way. I was physically near Harry Potter at school, but there was no way Harry's friends would allow me to get anywhere close to him. And what did Voldemort have planned for him? It was obvious that he wanted to kill Potter, but what else did he want from him. Blood? Pain? Torture?

I didn't like Potter much, but I never wished that kind of fate on him. He didn't deserve that. He couldn't even remember the night he defeated Voldemort.

I couldn't let him get close to Harry.

But my parents wanted me to help the Dark Lord, and they probably wanted me to be a part of his army of Death Eaters as well. I didn't want that. There's no telling what I would have to do if I did join them, but if I didn't, You-Know-Who will undoubtedly blame my parents and do any number of things to them.

I didn't want Harry to die, but I didn't want my parents or myself to die, either.

The door flew open and a voice hurriedly demanded, "How was it?"

I straightened my posture and shook my head slightly to clear my mind of my thoughts and turned to see my father rushing towards me, his black walking stick griped tightly in his hand.

"Well?" he almost shouted when I didn't answer.

"F-fine," I stuttered.

My father narrowed his eyes slightly at me until I lowered my gaze from him.

"Just _fine_?" he repeated, his gaze becoming heated with intensity.

"He wants me to keep an eye on Potter," I said firmly.

"And?" he demanded. But when I didn't answer him as quickly as he wanted, he added, "What have you decided?"

I glanced back up at him, slightly surprised that he wanted an answer right away. "I don't know," I muttered, lowering my eyes again.

"What do you mean you _don't know_?" my father said, his voice too calm to be real.

"I mean it's a lot to process," I stated, raising my voice a little. "I need to think about it."

Father seemed to tense even more, looking at me with something akin to disgust But he sighed quietly. "Okay. You have two weeks. At the end of those two weeks, you have to give both him and _me_ an answer." With that, he stormed out of the dining room, the sound of his tapping cane quieting with each retreating step.

Now, I was officially caught between a rock and a hard place. What could I do?

 **Author notes: Did you guys like it? This is my first fanfiction ever, so I'm a little nervous about how it went. I love constructed criticism, so feel free to comment about how you think it could be better in future chapters (I will always consider you suggestions, but that does not mean that they will be accepted). Hope you guys liked Chapter One. Chapter Two will come next week!...Hopefully...School has started back up again, so there's no guarantee that it will be updated regularly, though I will try. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, guys! Happy Friday! I kept my promise and figured this thing out. Yay!**

 **So. To clear something up, most of this story is a flashback. We will catch up to real time, though (Chapter Fifteen, I think).**

 **In this chapter, the summer before Order of the Phoenix as well as the Fifth Year itself is covered.**

 **Copyright: I own nothing. There is one Original Character named Loft (you meet him in this chapter), but I do not own the concept for House Elves. No other Copyright infringement intended.**

 **Chapter Two**

I was almost entirely silent throughout the two weeks I was given to decide. I had nothing to say. Both of my parents threw expectant glances at me as they awaited my decision, but even when my last day to choose drew to a close, I hadn't made one yet.

It was either my life and my parent's lives, or Harry's life and anyone else who stood in the Dark Lord's way, and considering how many friends Harry has made, that would be quite a few people.

Logically, to avoid the maximum loss of life, I should refuse what Voldemort had offered and let him kill us, but my heart wouldn't let me. These were my parents, and I did not want to die.

I sat on the sheets of my bed, staring at the dancing flames of the fire as the orange light of sunset glowed through my window, contemplating everything.

How did I get here?

I was only fourteen-almost fifteen then-but I shouldn't have been asked to choose who lives and who dies.

"Hello, sir," a small voice greeted from the doorway.

I glanced towards where I heard it from and found one of our House Elves standing in his rags, hesitating at the doorway. "You can come in," I muttered.

The Elf nodded and entered. "Loft is just here to change the wood in the fire, young master Malfoy," he informed.

I didn't say anything, but the small creature moved forward anyway, and I watched him wordlessly as he worked.

After a few moments of flying embers, the House Elf bowed to me and moved towards the door.

"What should I do?" I blurted out, stopping the Elf his tracks.

The little creature froze for a moment before turning back to me. "About what, sir," he wondered.

Realizing what I said, I paused, trying to think of a cover, but nothing came to mind. I needed to talk about this with someone, and my parents were out of the question. The House Elves have seen a lot, and even when they don't actually do anything wrong, they hurt themselves because they were programmed to. It tore at my heart to see them do it, but I learned a long time ago that it can't be prevented.

"Uh...," I hesitated, but with a sigh, I finally voiced everything. "I have to make a choice. It's basically between who lives and who dies, and I don't know which way to lean."

"Are you asking Loft's opinion, sir?" the Elf questioned, surprise ringing in his voice as his eyes slightly widened.

"Yes," I voiced, "or at least some advice on which to choose."

"Loft does not know, sir," the creature began, "but if it was Loft's choice, Loft would chose the option that killed the least amount of people, sir."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I would, too."

"Then what is the problem, sir?"

"If I take that option, I also choose to kill my family and myself," I answered, my chest tightening at the thought.

"Loft used to have a family, sir, but we were separated when we grew capable enough to serve," the servant explained, "so if it was a choice between Loft's own family and others, Loft would choose his family, even if it meant a greater amount of death."

I huffed out my anxiety, his words cementing my decision. "Thank you," I uttered.

"You are welcome, sir," the Elf responded with a bow before turning back to the door.

"Loft," I called, getting him to look back at me.

"Sir?"

"Don't tell my parents or anyone about this conversation," I ordered, fearing what might happen if he did. What would my father have to say about my taking advice from a House Elf?

"No, sir," he agreed with another small bow.

As the Elf turned back to the door, my father moved briskly through it, hitting the pale creature out of his way.

The servant gave a cry of pain as my father harshly whispered, "Get out of here."

The House Elf nodded as he held his injured arm, taking his leave with a small bow.

"What's your decision?" Father demanded, staring at me with something akin to panic in his eyes.

"Yes," I answered slowly, and with a preparatory breath, I continued, "I'll help him. I'll help the Dark Lord."

My father smiled softly at me upon hearing my answer. "You have made the best decision of your life, Draco," he said. "I will inform our Dark Lord, and we will begin your training as a Death Eater tomorrow."

That was all I did that summer break.

They installed some kind of Dark Arts shield so I could practice without being caught by the Ministry for the use of underaged magic outside of school, so I trained, and trained, and trained. I never got a break.

The Death Eaters that were not currently housed in Azkaban Prison took care of my preparation for becoming one of them. My father couldn't do it because he was biased towards me or something like that. That was all I was ever told. My father watched on the sidelines as I progressed, or that's what they called it.

I was trained in the Dark Arts and taught every spell; they wormed their way into my mind and wand, infecting me. They were so draining. I could only take so much before I collapsed. I became deathly ill for an entire month of the summer. I couldn't keep any food down, and I ran a constant high temperature. I was weak and bedridden, and I slept through most of the month. Thankfully, my Death Eater trainers gave me some reprieve.

We ended training a week before school began, so I would have time to prepare. I thought that the lapse in training was so I could take the time to look normal again.

My skin had paled significantly, and my cheeks had sunken in. I still looked ill, and the more Dark Arts spells I casted, the worse my sickness got. They must have given me that time at the end of the summer to regain some of my lost health.

As the school year began, I could tell that there was something different about the atmosphere around the school, and it wasn't just Professor Umbridge or the O. looming over the other Fifth Years. The air was tense and a sense of foreboding hovered over the students.

Preparing for my O. gave me a chance to process everything. Crabbe and Goyle constantly tried to converse with me and make jokes, but I was never in the mood for it.

"Gotta study," I said over and over again.

"You're starting to sound like a Ravenclaw, Malfoy," Crabbe mocked.

I laughed slightly and retreated to an unoccupied corner of our dungeon common room. I pulled out a textbook and opened it to a random page. My mind drifted as I scanned the words.

I was reporting everything to my father through owl messages. They were done in code so that if the owl was intercepted, they would seem like harmless correspondence between a father and son. I told him how Potter was acting differently: Harry was distant and short tempered. It had to be related to You-Know-Who's return, but Father wanted to know everything anyways, so when Umbridge practically took over Hogwarts, I told him that, too.

Father… _suggested_ that I join the Professor's Inquisitorial Squad, saying that it would not only help train me to take orders without question, but it would make my task of spying on Potter easier. And we had finally gotten a lead that seemed promising.

The rest of the Squad and I watched Potter as he and his friends disappeared through a door practically everyday. The door shrunk in size every time we got close to it. We would burst through it and it was just a storage closet. At first I despised the job of spying on Potter, but now my curiosity was piqued. Where did they go everyday?

My father suggested that we interrogate the people who Potter snuck around with using a truth-telling potion. That earned us what we needed. Cho told us everything about Dumbledore's Army.

Potter grew even more distant after that. He just wasn't the same person he was the first four years of school. With the whole thing about his secret Army resolved, I thought I could wash my hands of the whole affair. I thought I was done.

But I couldn't have been more wrong.

When those Weasley twins interrupted everyone's O. by setting off fireworks inside the school and leading everyone outside, it was quite the show-even though they chased me with one of those fireworks. After that, Potter and a few others disappeared.

No one could find Harry, that Weasley girl with a crush on him and her older brother, that insane blonde girl, the boy who likes plants and that smart girl with the puffy brown hair. Despite that fact, everything at the school resumed. The professors told us that they were looking for Potter and his friends, and we all went home that summer as usual .

I had no idea what awaited me at home. I knew I was in for more intense training, but Potter looked triumphant when he returned to the school. I have been around Hogwarts long enough to know that Potter disappearing combined with a look of triumph upon his return meant that he had faced Voldemort or something of that nature.

My father didn't waste any time when the Hogwarts Express pulled into Platform Nine and Three Quarters. I barely had time to gather my luggage. He was limping but rushed me away faster than I could keep up .

I protested against him, but he held fast to my arm and didn't let me go until we got to our Manor.

"It's my turn to train you," he said between panicked, gasping breaths, finally releasing his hold on me in our courtyard.

"I thought you couldn't," I reminded, dropping my luggage and massaging my sore arm.

"Well, I have to, now," he told me.

"Why?" I questioned, his panic affecting my own nerves.

Father looked back at me with a hardened expression and remained silent for a moment before reluctantly saying, "I made a mistake. I had to get something for our Dark Lord, and I f-failed. I lost what he needed, and now I have to train you."

"As a punishment?" I pressed.

"Yes," Father answered.

"How is training me a punishment for you?" I asked, a fearful curiosity eating away at me.

"I'm sure you've noticed by now that casting Dark Spells drains you and makes you ill ," he began, nervously. "The more powerful the spell, the more energy you lose. Eventually you build up an endurance and are able to tolerate it, but at your level, you can barely stand it. I have to train you in the hardest and most powerful spells. They could kill you."

I didn't respond. I looked back at him, an ice cold fear coiling in my chest. "He's making you kill me?" I hesitantly questioned.

"No," he instantly responded. "I won't do that. But if you don't listen to my advice about these spells, that will happen, and I'm afraid that neither of us have a say in the matter. You have to train, and I have to train you."

 **What did you guys think? I've gotten good reviews so far. Hopefully this chapter went over as well as the first.**

 **Guess what. I'm actually excited for this upcoming Monday. The Eclipse...School is practically canceled (though I still have to get up at 5-flippin'-30 for a sort of Bible Study class). We'll get to see about 90% of the Eclipse. *Casually plays the Eclipse episode of Avatar and rants about Yue***


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, peoples! This week has been hectic for me, so I almost broke my weekly update promise! Luckily I didn't!**

 **This chapter is pretty short, but there are plenty of longer ones to come.**

 **Copyright: I own nothing.**

 **Chapter Three**

Half of the summer already had gone by when Father told me that he was going to teach me the Killing Curse. I had learned about it from Mad Eye Moody when he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I had never cast it.

I knew the words of the spell, but I was already so weak from the training. I could barely look at myself in the mirror anymore. There was a pallor to my skin unlike there had never been before. There were darkened spots under my eyes, and I had lost over ten pounds. I was so exhausted that I could hardly stand.

I swayed on my feet as my father placed a small rat on a table in our sheltered courtyard.

"Do you remember the words?" Father wondered as he moved back to me.

"Yeah," I mumbled lazily, looking back up at him.

My father wasn't like he used to be, either. He looked worse than me. His cheekbones stood out more than they ever had before, and he was as white as a sheet. His long hair was unkempt and scruff was beginning to form on his jaw.

"Good. Cast it," Father ordered, gesturing to the rat on the table.

I glanced back at the small rodent, tightening my limp hold on my black wand. I raised the instrument and took aim at the squeaking creature. My stomach churned with disgust and fear, but I had no idea what the disgust was aimed towards. Certainly not the rat, but what else could be so repulsive?

"Cast it!" Father hissed from my side, a panicked urgency in his voice.

I jolted at his harsh voice, but steadied my aim and shouted, " _Avada Kedavra_!"

I barely registered the green light that flared from the end of my wand. An unfamiliar pain speared me in the chest making me cry out. My wand fell from my grasp, and I collapsed to the ground, instantly losing any remaining strength. My lungs froze, a Dementor-like coldness stealing my breath. I tried to draw in air, but the more I tried, the more my throbbing lungs burned.

"Draco!" Father called, his voice nothing but a distant echo.

Everything faded away to blackness, and the feeling of being carried and moved was nothing but the distant brush of a feather.

* * *

"Draco," Mother later voiced, bringing some colour into my darkened mind.

I forced my eyes open to find her face. Her blurry outline eventually focused, and I opened my mouth try to speak, only to be stopped by a terrible burning in my throat.

A hard cup was quickly pressed to my lips as a hand slipped behind my neck, raising my head. Cool water streamed into my mouth, soothing my dry throat.

The cup was taken away all too soon, and my head was lowered back down onto a pillow.

"What's going on?" I muttered.

"You've been unconscious, Draco," Mother answered. "We moved you to your room. I preferred to take you to a hospital, but they know what the effects of casting Dark spells are. They would recognize it, and we would all be arrested and thrown into Azkaban."

"How long was I out?" I croaked.

"About half a month," she answered.

"Half a month?" I exclaimed, trying to raise myself up and scan her face to see if she was lying. How could I have been unconscious for that long?

"Don't try to sit up," Mother harshly whispered, placing her hands on my shoulders and forcing me back down onto the bed. It didn't take much to get me to give into her force, and I readily fell back down onto the mattress of my bed with an exhausted groan.

"It's almost time for school, now," my mother informed, rising back to her full height. "You should be recovered in enough time to go."

"Should?" I questioned.

"Well, nothing is certain. Casting a Killing Curse for the first time never ends well," she answered.

"Then why did I have to cast it?" I asked.

Mother took a moment to answer, but once she did, it made me even more sick to my stomach. "I'll tell you later. For now, you need to focus on getting better. You're almost ready," she said softly, patting the inside of my left wrist.

The grandfather clock in my room chimed, making my mother glance up at it. "Oh!" she exclaimed, standing back up, "I have to go."

"Go where?" I called as loud as my hoarse voice would go as she moved towards the door.

She turned back to me and put her hands on either side of the door frame. "Just somewhere with your Aunt Bellatrix," she dodged. "You get better, okay?"

I slowly nodded, earning a smile from her, and she turned and left.

Once Mother was gone, I lifted my left arm from the bed and eyed the inside of my wrist. I discovered a slightly darkened mark forming onto my skin like a bruise. It had an odd shape to it, vaguely like a snake coming out of a skull.

 **Something interesting that I figured out is that Draco is technically Harry's god-cousin or something like that. Think about it. Sirius Black states in the Order of the Phoenix that Bellatrix Lestrange is his cousin, and in the Half-Blood Prince, Bellatrix constantly calls Narcissa Malfoy "Sister."...I freaked out when I figured this out.**

 **Till next week!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, peoples! Happy Labor Day Weekend! And I believe Summer Bank Holiday just passed in England, so happy late Summer Bank Holiday to the English!**

 **This Chapter is a lot longer than the last, so I hope it makes up for my lack of content in Chapter Three. Here, The Half-Blood Prince film officially begins.**

 **Copyright: I own NOTHING!**

 **Chapter Four**

"Today's the day! Ready to go, Draco?" Aunt Bellatrix excitedly shouted, making me wince at her volume.

"Yes," I quietly answered as I entered our living room.

"Good!" she responded as Greyback the werewolf and my mother moved into the room. "Let's go, then!"

Mother took hold of my arm. I jumped a little at the sudden force on my still aching wand-arm as Bellatrix lifted her wand and Apparated us out of the manor.

Our surroundings suddenly blurred and quickly rearranged themselves into a darkened alleyway made of black stone.

"Let's go this way!" Bellatrix hissed as she raised her dark hood.

Bellatrix and Greyback quickly ran down the alleyway that led to Borgin and Burkes. I moved to follow them, but my mother placed a hand at my torso to stop me. She glanced around before shoving me in front of her and guiding me through the twisted ally, bringing us to a shop I visited with my father the summer before I began my Second Year.

My mother entered the shop while I hesitated outside the door, taking a moment to wipe all trace of emotion from my expression. Being around the other Death Eaters and my father so often has made me grow talented at concealing everything I felt. I learned a long time ago not to show fear or regret over the Dark spells I was being taught to cast.

"What can I do for you today?" a voice greeted as I entered the shop.

"We're looking for a rare item," I answered, reciting the script we had rehearsed as the owner of the shop came forward.

"W-well, we have plenty of that here," the older man stuttered, nervously glancing at Greyback behind me. "You'll have to be more specific, my boy."

"A Vanishing Cabinet," I clarified.

"'A Vanishing Cabinet'?" the man laughed. "Now, that's a bit too rare. I couldn't even tell you where to find one."

I swallowed nervously, gulping down the sudden lump in my throat. I didn't expect this to be easy, but I didn't want to show him. I never wanted to look at it again, but as Bellatrix subtlely prodded my back, I knew I didn't have a say in the matter.

I sighed dramatically, carefully rolling up the sleeve that concealed my left wrist. I held my arm out to the man as he approached me to inspect the Mark forming on my arm.

The owner tensed and fear flashed in his eyes.

"Are you sure you don't know?" I arrogantly wondered, tilting my head to the side for emphasis.

"I may have one in the back of the shop," he said quickly. "Follow me."

The shopkeeper led us through the various shelves and counters and through a hidden door and into the room beyond.

The man waved his wand and lit the back room with a soft glow of various candles and lanterns.

"Here it is," the keeper said, slapping the side of a blackened wardrobe.

I crossed the floor and inspected the dark wood. I tapped the side of it with the ring my father gave me after I cast my first Killing Curse. He said it would keep him close if I fell ill l again and he couldn't be there.

I put my ear to the door of the Cabinet and closed my eyes, listening to the hollow echoing and making sure it was what the shopkeeper said it was. My father had told me what to listen and look for to be sure it was a real Vanishing Cabinet, and everything seemed to be in order.

I turned back to the shop owner and voiced, "This'll do."

The owner opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it again, staring at the werewolf behind me.

Curiously following his gaze, I found Greyback standing on a platform above us and staring out of the large window through squinted eyes. I was about to ask him what he was staring at when with a wave of my mother's wand, the blinds snapped closed, instantly blocking off any view to the outside.

"You were saying?" I asked the shopkeeper after clearing my throat and yanking my sleeve back down, my uneasiness at having my faint Mark exposed growing by the minute.

"I was going to ask what purpose a teenager could have for a Vanishing Cabinet. Where you would take it," the man answered.

"That's our business," I calmly responded. "And we don't need to take it. We just need to...put it on reserve for a while."

"Yes, but a man can't help but be curious..." the shopkeeper trailed off.

"Well, I hope you can help it for your sake," I threatened, my heart clenching as I spoke.

Bellatrix gripped her wand at her hip, and as per the plan, I gave her a stern look. She quickly released her wand and backed a few steps away from the man.

The shop owner visibly gulped and stuttered, "E-either way, you-you'd still have to pay."

I looked over to my mother and gave her a curt nod. She reached inside of her cloak and pulled out a coin purse that she handed to the shopkeeper.

The man opened it with an expression that was simultaneously curious and cautious. His eyes widened as he found the several hundred galleons resting inside the small coin purse.

The owner looked back up at us and gestured to the item we needed. "The Cabinet is yours."

Bellatrix bounced excitedly over to my mother and myself as Greyback descended towards us. The three adults each raised their wands, and my mother took my hand as we Apparated back to my family's manor.

We appeared in the main dining hall, and I quickly let go of my mother's hand and backed away from the group, relieved that it was over. It was time for school, now, and I had collected my books and things early so we would have time to get the cabinet later in the summer when it was less crowded. I would never have to deal with this until Christmas Break when my training resumed.

My stomach suddenly heaved painfully, and I covered my mouth as bile rose into my throat. I was already weak from the Dark spells I have been casting lately, and my body hadn't fully recovered from the Killing Curse I cast on that rat, so the Apparating that day made me nauseous to the point of needing a toilet.

I was about to retreat to my room and private bathroom when the voice of my father stopped me. "Draco?" he called behind me.

I quietly sighed away my nerves and pushed my churning stomach to the back of my mind as I turned around. "Yes, Father?"

"It is time we tell you the real reason we need the Vanishing Cabinet," Father began. "And the reason your training will continue until you leave for school. And you will have special emphasis place on the Killing Curse."

Before I could ask what he meant, the darkened and snake-like form of the Dark Lord extracted itself from the shadows in the corner of the room. My chest tensed with nerves, and I lowered my head in an attempt to hide my fear from him.

"Well done in acquiring the Cabinet, Draco," Voldemort breathed.

I quickly nodded in response, not taking my eyes off of his dangerous snake coiling around his feet.

"You have progressed quickly in your training, and I am very proud of you, but now it's time for your real training to begin," The Dark Lord whispered. "We need you to-"

"We need you to kill someone!" Bellatrix exclaimed, getting me to raise my head to glance at her.

You-Know-Who made a soft growling sound in the back of his throat as he slowly turned his head towards her, glaring threateningly at her through his slitted eyes. "Yes, Draco," he added, turning back to me. "We need you to kill someone with that Killing Curse we've been having you practice."

"Who?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady. He was going to have me kill Potter. That had to be it. There was no one else I could imagine him wanting dead, but I thought that he had wanted to do away with Harry himself.

"Well, your father says is the worst thing that has happened to Hogwarts School ," The Dark Lord uttered. "Albus Dumbledore."

I froze at the name, and I know I hadn't succeeded in keeping the shock off of my face. Why would The Dark Lord need the Headmaster dead?

"He can help Harry Potter escape me in so many ways, and you are the only person we have who can ensure that he does not get the chance to offer that help, but you won't have to do it alone. We have arranged for someone to help you," Voldemort continued in his breathy tone. "But you can do it any way you see fit. It will prepare the school for the day we take it."

"'Take it'?" I questioned. "How would you do that? Undoubtedly, they have heard about everything that we have been doing and have taken precautions to prevent that from happening."

"Ah, but there is already a Vanishing Cabinet in the school, yes?" the Dark Lord countered. "That Cabinet and the one at Borgin and Burkes are twins. They will create a passage, once the one at Hogwarts is repaired. Then we can pass through their barriers unharmed."

I nodded and remained silent, casting my gaze to the floor again. I had thought that the School would be able to protect itself against the Dark Lord and his Death Eater army that I am now part of, but I suppose Voldemort always has a way to get what he wants.

"Don't you agree, Draco?" You-Know-Who asked, gliding even closer to me.

I glanced at my father, but all that he offered was a silent urging to say "yes".

"Yes," I finally muttered, "I agree. I'll kill Dumbledore."

"Excellent, Draco," The Dark Lord whispered, placing his cold hand on my shoulder. "I knew I chose correctly."

With that, The Dark Lord waved his bone-shaped wand in the air and vanished from the room, taking his snake with him.

Once he left, the churning in my stomach sprang to the forefront of my mind, but it was ten times worse than before. I placed a hand on my abdomen and another covering my mouth to try and keep the bile and little food I could eat inside of myself.

"Are you alright, Draco?" my mother asked, placing the back of her hand on my forehead.

"No," I mumbled through my hand. "Not right now."

"You must still be affected by the Killing Curse you cast," Mother offered.

"Yeah," I agreed, removing my hand from my mouth. "Let's go with that."

I didn't give her or anyone a chance to respond. I ran from the room and moved as fast as I possibly could to the private bathroom in my bedroom.

I quickly raised the toilet lid up and rested it against the back of the toilet. The small amount that was in my stomach instantly bubbled up and poured from my mouth, the sound of my own retching making me even more sick.

I spent the good part of an hour bent over the toilet coughing up bile and dry heaving until my father called me from the main part of my room. "Draco?"

I spit a small amount of saliva that formed in my mouth after another dry heave before demanding, "What?"

"I-I came to check on you," Father said nervously. "And to tell you that I will no longer be training you."

I looked back to him, planning on questioning why, when another heave from my stomach forced me to bend back over the toilet bowl.

I retched and groaned, a hand clutching my aching abdomen, but nothing came up except saliva.

My father kneeled on the floor beside me and gently ran a hand up and down my back, smoothing down the fabric of my black suit.

The careful movement of his hand calmed my churning stomach and allowed me some reprieve from this horrible hour.

"You have about two weeks left until you return to school, and The Dark Lord wants your training to be pushed harder," my father clarified.

"Harder?" I exclaimed, turning slightly to face him.

Father removed his hand from my back and sighed a little, giving me a pitying look as another jump from my stomach forced me back over the toilet.

"I'm sorry," my father sighed, "but I don't have a say in the matter. I don't even get to know who's training you."

I spat out another mouthful of saliva and half-heartedly wondered, "Anything I should prepare for?"

In truth, I didn't care what would happen during training. If it killed me, so be it. I didn't want to kill Dumbledore. I didn't want to kill anyone.

"Non-stop drills," Father answered. "I don't think that you'll be able to sleep very well, if you sleep at all."

"No sleep for two weeks?" I muttered, turning to him.

"You will sleep, but it will be so little that it will feel like none at all," Father responded.

I groaned and turned back to the toilet, resting my forehead on my hand.

Father returned his hand to my back and rubbed my spine up and down, comforting me as he said, "I suggest you eat what you can tonight and sleep as much as possible."

I nodded against my hand.

My father patted my back lightly and stood from the tiled floor, leaving the room.

The quieter his footsteps got, the more my heart sank. My stomach had settled for the most part, but I was terrified. I didn't want my father to go. For the first time in my life, there was something that scared me more than my father's stories, and he was the only one I could turn to. He was the one here for me now, not my mother like it normally was. Father came to warn me. Not Mother.

He couldn't leave me now.

 **Just so you all know, I'm not playing Devil's Advocate with Lucius in this chapter. There's never any proof that he hates Draco, and it's obvious that he loves his son, and JK Rowling came out on Pottermore (I think) saying that Draco looked up to Lucius.**

 **Speaking of JK Rowling, I know she said that what Draco showed the shopkeeper on his wrist was not a Dark Mark, but I have no idea what else it could have been, so maybe it was a developing Mark. That's why it's in this chapter. To me, there's no other explanation. What else could have scared the shopkeeper so much (especially since Rowling discredited the theory that Draco is a werewolf)?**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, everybody! Something happened with the previous Chapter Five, and I have no idea what. All of the words were somehow replaced with computer programing symbols. Anyone a computer wiz and know what would cause that? So I have officially broken my weekly update promise. Sorry!**

 **I hope this reposted chapter fixes the problem!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

 **Chapter Five**

Ice cold water washed over me, jerking me out of my restless sleep. I jolted straight up and sputtered, spitting out droplets of water that threatened to choke me.

"Wake up, Malfoy," a harsh voice ordered. "It's time for your training!"

The masked Death Eater that woke me grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of my bed. He forced me out of my room as he slapped my wand into my chest, making sure that I took it from him.

The Death Eater pulled me through the halls of my family's manor until we came to our sheltered courtyard.

"Time for you to learn all of the Curses and Unforgivable magic!" the Death Eater shouted in my ear.

A few other masked Death Eaters brought out various animals of different species that I was told to cast every Unforgivable Curse onto. Imperius, Cruciatus and Killing. All three in a row.

I couldn't contain my fear of this. I had cast the Imperius Curse before, and it didn't hurt like the Killing Curse did, but it still left me bedridden for the rest of the day the last time, and now I had to cast it over and over again on these animals.

When Mad-Eye Moody did it during class, it was entertaining. Up until he threw that spider on my face. What would I have to make these creatures do?

"Cast them!" the Death Eater shouted, making me jump and grip my wand harder than I already was.

I aimed the end of my wand at the animal closest to me-an owl-and did as instructed. "Imperio." My head pounded and my heart clenched as I voiced the spell. A wave of weakness made me close my eyes and nearly drop my wand.

"Pay attention!" the Death Eater barked, making me snap my eyes back open and double my grip on my wand.

The bird convulsed a bit as it tried to resist the Curse, but it was just an animal.

"Make it fly around," the Death Eater ordered.

I raised my wand again and leveled it at the bird. I used every ounce of concentration my swimming mind could manage and forced the owl to fly in several loops around the courtyard.

The longer I made the creature fly, the more it drained me. After a few minutes, I was swaying on my feet and could barely keep my eyes open.

"Alright. Let it go," the Death Eater voiced, and I gratefully release my hold over the owl's actions.

I stumbled back a few steps as I lowered my wand, accidentally running into the Death Eater that was supposed to be my trainer.

"Get off!" he shouted, shoving me away.

The Death Eater's voice sounded vaguely familiar. It almost sounded like one of my professors from school.

"Cruciatus, now!" he ordered, shoving my arm towards the owl I made fly.

Refocusing on the creature with a shake of my head, I steadied my wand at the bird again, and-before I could back out of it-shouted, "Crucio!"

The bird squawked and convulsed in pain, and a wave of weakness hit me so strongly that I could barely stand. After a few seconds, my vision went completely dark, and something hard hit me on the cheek.

"Wake up, Malfoy!" that familiar voice echoed as a hand violently shook my shoulder.

My eyes flew open and I was greeted by the same masked Death Eater from before.

"Time for the Killing Curse," he told me, forcing me to my feet.

I swayed unsteadily, but the Death Eater kept a hand on my shoulder so I wouldn't fall.

I raised my shaking arm at the bird that was lying on the ground, giving off quiet tweets of pain. I didn't want to kill it, but it was in pain right now, and killing it would put the little creature out of its misery.

I focused my blurred eyesight and mumbled, "Avada Kedavra."

The flash of green light was quickly followed by a pained squawk. My weakened legs finally gave out from underneath me, and I fell into the Death Eater.

"Get off!" he shouted, letting go of my arm.

I instantly collapsed to the ground without his support, and the Death Eater rolled me onto my back and leaned over me.

"How do you expect to kill the Headmaster if you collapse when you cast the Killing Curse?" he demanded, ripping off his mask.

"Professor?" I gawked in shock, dulled by exhausted pain.

"Yes, Malfoy," Snape answered. "Now get up."

Professor Snape grabbed my arm and dragged me to my feet. "I'm the one they called to help you," he told me. "I'm to train you in multiple ways to kill and ensure that you accomplish the goals we need."

"What other goal do I have besides killing Dumbledore?" I asked.

"Establishing the pathway between the two Vanishing Cabinets, of course," Snape explained. "And I can teach you that as well."

"Well, if you can do it, why do I have to?" I wondered.

"I'll be teaching at school. I have classes to oversee and papers to grade," he hissed. "I am your alibi. I can account for your whereabouts when you're working on the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement."

"'Room of Requirement'?" I repeated.

"Yes," Snape said slowly. "I'll show you where it is when you get to school. Now." He gestured to a random animal wandering about the courtyard. "Repeat all three Curses."

It went that way the entire two weeks until I returned to school. Cast the three Unforgivable Curses. Learn about the Vanishing Cabinets and how the pathway can be established between them. Learn how to curse objects to kill a person.

I hardly slept. Occasionally, I managed to sneak away to a shaded area of the courtyard and catch less than a half an hour of rest. Snape always woke me with a splash of freezing cold water, and he and several others always repeated the same sentences over and over.

"Hogwarts is pathetic."

"Dumbledore is one of the worst people to let live."

"Harry Potter will lead to the Dark Lord's downfall."

"Dumbledore must not be allowed to help Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter nearly killed your father."

"You were chosen."

"He chose you."

In the back of my mind, I knew what they did to me, but I was too weak and tired to fight it.

And in the end, they were right. Potter would destroy everything the Dark Lord and all of us have worked so hard to build, and Dumbledore would help him destroy it. I was chosen to help the Dark Lord. Only I can help him. Only I could kill Dumbledore.

 **Someone please let me know if this is all screwed up again!**

 **Until next week!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, everyone! Hopefully Chapter Six will go over much better than Chapter Five, and what happened last time, won't happen this time. Fingers crossed!**

 **So. I have something to tell you all. I have a Tom Riddle Muse. He makes everything sad and dark. He's basically stolen the story and is writing it, now.**

 **He was also in charge of a recent chapter that I wrote. Remember that trigger warning in the first chapter that said that there is no blood in the torture? Haha...yeah...well...that's kind of changed. It's very little. Just a pair of shallow cuts. I will update the warning in Chapter One. This one is just for people who have bee reading this before that was changed.**

 **Copyright: I own nothing!**

 **Chapter Six**

Our entire train car was suddenly plunged into a misty darkness on the Express. "What was that!" I shouted, getting to my feet.

I navigated my way to the aisle as best I could in the dark. My nerves were already shot, so that was the last thing I needed.

I let out a quiet, threatening growl from the back of my throat as I slipped my hand into my pocket and gripped my wand, my knuckles turning whiter than they already were.

"Blaise?" I consulted, trying to gain a second opinion before I lost it.

"I don't know," the dark-skinned boy answered.

"It's probably just some First Year messing around," Pansy offered. "Come on, Draco. Just sit down. We'll be at Hogwarts soon."

I sighed most of my tension away, and I released my aching grip on my wand. I smoothed out the wrinkles in my black suit as I lowered myself back into my seat.

"Hogwarts," I scoffed, shaking my head slightly. "What a pathetic excuse for a school. I might just pitch myself off of the Astronomy Tower if I thought I had to continue for another two years."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pansy questioned worriedly across from me.

I wanted to badly to tell her and Blaise about what happened this summer. I didn't know if I could continue with these secrets and lies for another two years.

But knowing I couldn't tell anyone a word of it, I instead answered, "Just don't think I'll be wasting my time in Charms class next year."

Blaise snickered a little at my comment, and for some reason, it made my anger boil in my chest.

"Amused, Blaise?" I wondered, mockingly, getting him to close his mouth. "We'll see who's laughin' in the end."

My bag jumped in the rack above us, and I glanced up at it as the two across from me fell silent. The bag could have jumped due to the movement of the train, and I was about to dismiss it as such when the bag twitched again. It moved slightly towards me as if it was kicked.

* * *

"You two go on ahead," I told Blaise and Pansy as they rose from their seats. "I wanna check something."

The pair hesitated, but they eventually turned and left me alone.

Once the two were on the station's platform, I stood from my seat and grabbed my bag from the rack. I moved towards the door, but instead of leaving, I closed it quietly and lowered the blinds. I slipped my hand into my pocket and fingered the end of my wand. With a subtle flick of my wrist, the rest of the blinds in the train car fell closed.

I took a deep breath to prepare myself and hide my true emotion. I was angry at Potter for spying on me with that Invisibility Cloak of his, but I was terrified, too. What would happen if he found out what I had planned?

"Didn't your mummy ever tell you that it's rude to eavesdrop, Potter?" I spat, hitting him where I knew it would hurt. I flipped around, whipped out my wand and shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!" aiming my wand in the direction I thought Potter was.

The air quivered, and a cacophony of banging sounded as Potter fell from the rack. Something hit the table Blaise, Pansy and I were sitting around before crashing to the floor.

I marched over to where Potter seemed to fall and reached out, finding the hem of his Cloak. I ripped it off of the floor, revealing a paralyzed and dumbfounded Harry Potter lying on his back.

I scoffed at his frozen expression. "Oh, yeah. She was dead before you could wipe the drool off your chin."

Memories of what the Death Eaters and Snape said about Potter and how I, myself, have heard him speak of my father flowed to the forefront of my mind, and it raised my foot above Potter's face and smashed his nose in with my shoe.

"That's for my father. Enjoy your ride back to London," I spewed and lifted the Cloak, throwing it back over him and left the car.

No one would find Potter. He would ride back to London without a problem. He would likely be the only one to catch me. His friend Granger might, but Potter and I have more classes together this year, so Granger wouldn't have the time to grow suspicious of me.

And Weasly, in all fairness, didn't have the competence to suspect anyone of anything.

I was safe with Potter back home.

"There you are!" a voice exclaimed.

I looked down and found Professor Flitwick standing guard at the gate with a roll of parchment.

"Name?"

I gave him a confused look and questioningly answered, "Malfoy, Draco?"

Flitwick crossed something off of the parchment with a quill before ordering me forward.

"Oh, Malfoy?" the professor called behind me.

I glanced back at Flitwick's short form and raised an eyebrow in question. "Yes?"

"You don't happen to know where Lovegood and Potter are, do you?"

I shook my head slightly and cooly answered, "No. No, I don't. Sorry, Professor."

Flitwick nodded in answer and waved me forward.

Resuming my walk, I found that Squib, Filch, inspecting my things with a couple of Aurors, and I ran forward. No one could have the chance to look too closely at what I brought to school. There were things I brought that were meant to aid me in killing Dumbledore. Poison, cursed objects, a cure for me to get my strength back if it did come down to casting a Killing Curse.

"What's this cane here?" Filch inquired as I reached him.

"It's not a cane," I corrected as the gate clanged shut. "It's a walking stick."

"And what would someone of your age need with a walking stick," Filch interrogated.

"My father gave it to me," I told him.

I didn't lie. My father did give me his old walking stick, but Filch couldn't look too closely. There was a vile of poison inside that he could not find.

"It could be some kind of weapon," Filch countered.

"It's alright Mister Filch. I can vouch for Mister Malfoy," Snape intervened, getting the Squib reluctantly to replace the walking stick where he had found it.

Snape stared fixedly past me, and I turned to follow his gaze and found Potter standing with that blonde Luny girl. She must have found him and got him off of the train before it left, though how she found him, I had no idea.

I smirked and couldn't help but taunt him at how ridiculous he looked with his bent and bleeding nose and his shirt covered in blood. "Nice face, Potter."

Before he could respond, Snape grabbed me by the forearm and dragged me into the castle.

"Don't let me know what you plan to do," the black-clothed professor instructed as we walked the hall. "The less I know about your plans, the better it will be for both of us. I'll show you the Room and how to get in tonight, but that's as far as my direct help can extend. I can cover for you. I can make sure no professors or staff cross your path outside of class for the most part, but I cannot be directly involved. The more people that know a secret, the higher the chance that someone will slip up."

"Yes, professor," I answered emotionlessly.

"Good," Snape responded quietly, pausing outside the open doors of the Great Hall. "Now, go in there, and act like you normally would. Keep up appearances."

I nodded silently as the professor stepped aside to allow me to enter the hall.

"Ravenclaw!" the Sorting Hat announced as I moved towards my seat by my friends, the last of the First Years was finally Sorted.

I lowered myself onto the bench between Crabbe and Goyle, and Goyle exclaimed, "There you are, Malfoy!"

"Yeah," Crabbe agreed. "Where've you been?"

"I was held up at the search," I covered, the usual buffet of food appearing on the long table. "Apparently my father's old walking stick is a 'possible weapon'."

The group of Slytherins around me snickered quietly, and I smirked with them as I loaded my plate with food.

I hadn't seen this much food in two weeks. They had given me enough food to be considered three meals a day, but it was never enough to satisfy my hunger. My stomach grumbled and ached, calling to be fed.

"Geeze, Draco!" Pansy exclaimed across the table. "Slow down! You're starting to eat like Crabbe and Goyle."

"Hey!" the two next to me yelled through mouthfuls of food.

I chuckled quietly, picking up a spoonful of strawberry gelatin. "Didn't eat lunch," I explained.

Pansy nodded in agreement as she filled her own plate, seeming to remember that I didn't eat on the train.

I managed to eat all of the gelatin and a chicken leg before my stomach churned, protesting against the speed that I was eating. I sat back from the table and pushed my plate away, unable to eat another bite.

"Are you gonna finish that?" Crabbe wondered with a full mouth.

I pushed the full plate towards him in response. I rested my elbow on the table and placed my chin in my hand while Crabbe devoured my plate of food. I glanced around at the others as they ate and couldn't prevent a hint of jealousy from making my heart burn. How could they have that much of an appetite? A few minutes ago, all of the food of the banquet was one of the most welcome sights in the world, but now it was one of the most repulsive. My stomach refused to settle and looking at the food only made the nausea worse. It took all I had to keep the pain off of my face.

After a few more minutes, my stomach thankfully began to simmer down as my target stood and approached the owl-shaped podium.

"Now that we're all settled in and sorted," Dumbledore announced, "I would like to introduce the newest member of our staff: Professor Horace Slughorn. He has graciously agreed to take up his old post as Potions Master. Meanwhile, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts will be taken up by Professor Snape."

I raised an eyebrow in surprise at the news, but I otherwise didn't move. It was obvious that there would be a new professor on the staff, but I thought it would be a new DADA teacher. Snape didn't tell me that someone would replace him as Potions Master.

As Dumbledore continued speaking, my mind strayed to the last two weeks and what I still had to do.

 _Kill Dumbledore._

 _Don't let him aid Potter._

 _Forge the passage._

"Draco!" a voice whispered, pulling me from my thoughts. "What are you doing?" Pansy quietly exclaimed.

"What?" I wondered.

Pansy gestured to my hand in answer causing me to glance down and look for what she meant. My dark wand had somehow ended up in my other hand, and I had it aimed towards the platform where the professors and Headmaster sat in a white-knuckled grip.

Covering up my actions, I loosened my hold, twirled the wand between my fingers and said, "Bored."

Pansy gave me an odd look but thankfully returned her attention to what Dumbledore was saying.

"Their greatest weapon, is you," Dumbledore concluded, his words echoing in my mind.

I glanced back down at the wand in my hand. Was I just a weapon? I was sent here to kill someone, but I was chosen for it. I wasn't a weapon. I was chosen.

"Now off to bed. Pip, pip," the Headmaster ordered.

I put my wand away and glanced up at the platform, quickly making eye contact with Professor Snape.

Snape nodded and discretely left out of the nearby door. I stood and silently followed my rowdy friends out of the doors of the Great Hall, but instead of following them to the Slytherin Common Room in the dungeon, I quietly slipped off to the side and quickly moved around the corner to meet up with the professor.

Snape briskly walked down the corridor while I followed at his heels. He led me through various halls that I committed to memory. Eventually, we came to the blank wall that the Inquisitorial Squad and I spent so much time staring at when we were trying to catch Potter and his friends in the act.

"This is the Room of Requirement," Snape whispered in the darkened hall.

"So there actually is a room behind this wall?" I questioned.

"Yes, and I know you found it last year with the Inquisitorial Squad," the professor answered, "but I'm going to teach you how to open it to the room that you need."

I nodded as Snape told me that there is a room filled with broken and misplaced things and that this is where the other Vanishing Cabinet resided. It sounded like nothing more than a room full of trash. How could something as valuable as a Vanishing Cabinet end up in a room that sounded like a landfill?

As Snape concluded his description of the Room, he told me to close my eyes and let the image of the Room fill my mind.

I did as instructed, and after a moment or two, the wall in front of us emitted a crackling sound, and I opened my eyes again to find a pattern carving itself into the wall. The curling pattern spiraled upwards and outwards until a wooden doorway had formed.

I watched as Snape marched forward and opened one of the doors, waving me through.

Once I had moved past the professor, he let the door fall closed with an echoing bang. I looked back as the wall crackled once more, the door disappearing from the wall.

"This is the room you need," Professor Snape explained. "Every time you wish to work with the Cabinet, come to this wall and picture this room."

"Great," I responded, half-heartedly. "Where is the Cabinet?"

"Somewhere in this room," Snape answered. "I don't know its exact location, and I would rather not until the day we take the School. Remember what I said."

I nodded in responce as the professor briskly moved passed me and towards the wall where the door re-formed itself.

I followed Professor Snape through the twisting corridors of the School and down to the dungeon common room of Slytherin House.

"Get some rest," Snape suggested, his tone making it sound more like an order. "You have to get to work tomorrow."

I silently nodded and moved passed him and through the doors to the common room. Thankfully there weren't many people still awake, so I wouldn't have to answer too many questions about where I had been, but undoubtedly, Crabbe and/or Goyle will interrogate me.

"I can't make the lie too big," I muttered as I mounted the stairs to the boys' dorm room. "It has to be simple. Snape just needed me for something he told me not to talk about. That's close enough to the truth."

I quickly opened and closed the door to the boys' dorm room and was immediately overwhelmed with questions.

"Where've you been, Malfoy?"

"What were you doing?"

"We've been looking all over for you!"

Their bombardment of phrases reminded me too much of what happened a week ago, and I stumbled back a few steps back into the door.

"You alright, Malfoy?" Goyle wondered as I picked myself back up. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Or something equally as frightening that we don't see every day," Crabbe voiced.

"Fine," I spat. "Just tired. And as for where I was, I was with Snape. He needed me for something."

"What would he need you for this late at night?" Crabbe interjected.

"Wish I could tell you, but he told me not to breathe a word of it," I faked, smoothing out the wrinkles in my dark suit.

"Well, you better get some sleep, Malfoy," Blaise offered. "You look like you could use it, and it'll l only get worse as the school year goes on," he laughed.

I quietly snickered along as I approached my bed which already had my things resting on it.

I opened my trunk and silently removed my pajamas from it. I slipped my nightclothes on and fell into bed, my lingering exhaustion from the two weeks earlier catching up with me again.

"Blaise is right," Crabbe whispered as he settled into his bed next to me. "You definitely need to sleep."

"Shut up, Crabbe," I mocked, rolling over onto my other side.

* * *

" _Kill him!" they echoed. "Kill him, now!"_

" _He'll kill you."_

" _Wake up!"_

 _A splash of ice cold water._

" _He cannot be allowed to help Potter."_

" _You were chosen for this."_

 _The moon rose and set. The stars came and went._

 _Exhaustion made my very bones ache._

" _Wake up, Malfoy!"_

" _He'll kill you if you can't do this._

" _Eat your dinner! It's the last you'll get till tomorrow."_

" _You'll die if you don't."_

" _Cast it!"_

" _Avada Kedavra!" I shouted over and over again. "Crucio! Imperio!"_

 _I collapsed to the ground so many times._

 _I was so tired._

" _Wake up!"_

* * *

I jolted straight up in my bed, tossing my covers off. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, breathing deeply to try and calm my racing heart. My whole body was drenched in a cold sweat, making my night clothes stick to my clammy skin.

I never had enough time to dream during the two weeks before school, and I didn't expect it to be like that.

I glanced at the window and found the sky greying with morning. I should have gone back to bed, but I gathered my clothes and toiletries and retreated to the bathroom.

I shut and locked the door and splashed cold water onto my face to wake myself up, but all I did was throw myself back into those same memories in my dream.

" _Wake up, Malfoy!"_

I groaned and dried my face off with a nearby hand towel, ignoring my swirling memories.

After I brushed my teeth and rinsed, I was about to dump the remainder of the water into the sink when I noticed ripples in the water. My hand was shaking.

I dropped the cup and held my right hand with my left to try to get it to stop. I squeezed and shook my hand, but the tremor never ceased.

Eventually, I gave up on it and tossed the disposable cup into the trash bin by the sink and dressed into my day clothes, pleading that the shaking in my hand would stop.

I left the lavatory with my things and placed them back by my bed. The other boys in the dormitory were just beginning to stir as I grabbed my wand and snuck passed them and out of the room.

I walked to the common room and sat on one of the chairs near the smoldering wood in the fireplace. I twirled my wand through the fingers of my left hand as I inspected my shaking one. The tremor was still there. What was causing it?

It was never there before. I understood that I was not quite recovered from the two weeks before school, but that wouldn't cause just my hand to shake? Wouldn't it make my whole body tremble, not just my hand?

 **The content before this point has been relatively light compared to what's to come. It makes my personal Tom Riddle happy, so it makes all of us sad. I have actually cried writing some of these chapters.**

 **On that hopeful note, till next week!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello, everyone! The long-awaited Chapter Seven! Here, we pick up right where we left off with the very first day of Draco's Sixth Year.**

 **Copyright: I own nothing. There are a few quotes from The Half-Blood Prince film (I went through this film with the subtitles on, second after second, pausing it to get these quotes right. It was so. Tedious.), but they are not my own words.**

 **Chapter Seven**

The whole day passed by in a blur. There was breakfast, but I hardly ate anything. My stomach protested against me if I tried to eat anything more than a piece of toast.

There was a class period and a class change, but I barely paid attention. You hardly ever had to the first day. It was usually just the professors saying what to expect during the school year and very little instruction.

Nothing throughout the morning stuck out until Potions that day. Slughorn taught differently than Snape, and Potter walked in late with his redhead friend, but neither of those were what caught my attention.

"Liquid Luck," Potter's curly-haired friend interrupted.

"Yes, Miss Granger. Liquid Luck," Slughorn agreed. "Desperately tricky to make. Disastrous, should you get it wrong. One sip and you will find that all of your endeavours succeed."

Hope sparked inside of me, the first I had felt since I started training. I had to win that potion. It was the best chance I had at repairing the Vanishing Cabinet and reforming the pathway between it and its twin and Borgin and Burkes. I might eventually be able to do it on my own, but that was a might. The potion was a guarantee.

But there was only so much of it. Should I use the potion to kill who I was supposed to or to repair the Cabinet? If I fail at one but succeed in the other, I still might die.

As soon as Slughorn let us begin, I tore through my book to find the recipe for the Draught of Living Death. I scanned the ingredients and ran through the classroom to find them. I was the first person to gather everything, and I was the first person to start.

"Man, you're fast, Malfoy," Blaise laughed.

I laughed with him and said, "Do you know what I could do with that Liquid Luck?"

"What?" Blaise joked, lowering his voice as Slughorn passed. "You gotta big test to pass already?"

"I guess you could say that," I responded.

Eventually, I moved onto the Sopophorus beans and carefully brought my knife to the one I held in my hand. The instructions said to cut the bean, but it was impossible. The bean refused to stay in one place. As soon as my knife came into contact with it, it rolled all over my station, no matter how tight I held onto it.

Why couldn't I cut that stupid bean? I had to get that potion. I didn't think I could repair the Cabinet in time or kill Dumbledore. I still don't, but back then, when I was thinking about it, my hand shook so much that I almost cut my other hand open.

"Malfoy," Blaise called, getting me to look up from my work. "Are you sure you're okay? You didn't even notice when that bean from Weasley flew by, and you look like you're gonna throw up."

"I'm fine," I countered, releasing my knife.

"Merlin's beard! It's perfect!" Slughorn exclaimed from across the room. I glanced his way and found him leaning over Potter's cauldron. "So perfect I daresay that one drop would kill us all! Potter wins the Liquid Luck!" the professor announced, turning to address the whole class.

My heart sank, and my legs grew so weak that I had to lean against the table to support myself.

Of course Potter won it. It's just my luck. I had nothing to help me, now.

But I refused to take it lying down. I had to at least try.

At the end of the day, I slipped away from my old friends and moved briskly to the Room of Requirement. No one was ever in that corridor, so all I had to do was make sure that no one would follow me there.

Once there, I repeated the process that Snape told me of imagining the room I needed. I ran through the doors as soon as they formed and begged that they would disappear quickly.

The doors dissipated after a second or two, and I combed my way through the mess of the room.

It was all junk. There was nothing there but broken and dusty things. The only thing that stuck out was the skipping record that repeated itself constantly, grating on my eardrums.

My frustration almost got the better of me, the tremor in my hand worsening by the minute. I was about to give up and come back later in the day after I had eaten and drank a little when I spotted a red covering draped over an object that was about as tall as the Cabinet in Borgin and Burkes.

I approached the covering with caution, not wanting to get my hopes up in case it wasn't what I thought.

With one last breath, I ripped off the covering and stared at the Vanishing Cabinet underneath. I had found it. Finally, I could get to work.

I opened the Cabinet doors to see what I had to work with. The wood seemed to be in good condition, but the magic inside the Cabinet was broken. I could feel it. The shards of the pathway to Borgin and Burkes were there, but it wasn't enough to allow for a safe passage.

I pulled an old pocket watch my father gave me a few years ago and glanced at it, finding that it was already halfway through dinner. I had to go back before anyone missed me.

* * *

"Where've you been, Draco?" Pansy interrogated.

"Lavatory," I answered coolly as I took my seat.

"For over a half hour?"

"Not feeling well," I covered. "Must've eaten something at lunch that didn't agree with me."

"Do you need to go to the infirmary?"

"Nah," I answered, taking a small sandwich from the plate in front of me. "It's not that bad."

"Okay," Pansy conceded. "But only if you're sure."

"I'm sure," I insisted, taking a bite of my sandwich.

I swallowed the food and waited a few seconds without any protest from my stomach.

I placed the sandwich on the plate at my seat and poured some water into the nearby goblet, taking a cautious sip.

I was surprised when my body didn't reject the food and water by making me nauseous again, but I took advantage of it. I finished off the sandwich quickly and downed the goblet of water before my stomach could stop me. That was the first real meal I had eaten since two weeks prior to school. Anything I ate before barely stayed down.

I waited a few minutes before picking up a piece of chicken and putting it down on my plate. My body seemed to be tolerating the food, but I still wanted to take it slow. I took small bites and carefully swallowed each one. I drank a little water after I ate and waited, seeing if my stomach would heave.

I was about to take a small amount of pudding when my stomach churned again, and a little bile rose up into my mouth. I groaned and put a hand to my lips to try and keep the bile inside.

I sat for the rest of the hour of dinner, watching as the others piled food onto their plates.

At last, we could head to bed. I was the first one to leave for the common room, and I ran into the boys' lavatory once I got there. I rushed to a stall and locked it behind me, what I ate immediately releasing itself into the toilet.

I must have been worse than I thought. I got sick a while back, yes, but I didn't think it would affect me for this long.

"Draco?" a voice called as I held my aching torso. It sounded like Blaise.

I spat a bit of saliva into the toilet. "What?"

"I saw you rush in here. Are you alright? Pansy said you weren't feeling well at dinner, and now you sound like you're throwing up," he answered.

"I'm fine! Just leave me alone," I shouted, leaning back into the wooden wall of the stall.

Footsteps sounded, growing closer to the door of the stall, and before I could do anything, Blaise kicked the door in, small splinters of wood flying in every direction.

He looked down at me on the floor and sighed. "I knew there was something off with you lately."

"I'm just sick," I responded, pleading that he would go away. "I caught something a week or so ago, but my family and I had thought it had passed."

"Yeah, well…" Blaise bagan. "We're taking you to the infirmary. Now."

"No, I'm fine," I protested as Blaise crossed me and flushed the toilet.

"You look like death, Draco!" he exclaimed. "You can say that you're fine all you want, but you are clearly not fine." Blaise ripped off a piece of bathroom tissue and held it out to me. "Clean yourself up. We're going now."

"Isn't it passed curfew?" I reminded, taking the tissue from his hand.

"Yeah, but if Filch catches us, we'll just tell him what happened," Blaise explained. "Then he'll either come with us to be sure we get there or let us go."

I groaned and tossed the bathroom tissue into the toilet after I wiped my mouth off, using the wall to help myself up.

Blaise grabbed my upper arm for support, leading me out of the lavatory and into the common room where Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy waited.

"So you are sick?" Pansy tried to confirm.

"Yeah," Blaise answered for me as I rolled my eyes in annoyance at the question. "He said he caught something during the last week before school. I'm taking him to the infirmary to be sure he gets there."

"I'm fine. I can get there on my own," I insisted.

If I went alone, I wouldn't have to go to sick bay. I could go to the Room of Requirement and work with the Cabinet, formulate some sort of plan.

"No, Draco. We know you too well," Goyle added. "You're saying that you're fine, so as soon as we let you go alone, you'll sneak off."

"We'll all take you," Crabbe agreed, Pansy nodding along with his words.

"Come on, guys," I groaned, yanking my arm out of Blaise's hold. "I'm fine," I protested, another heave from my stomach betraying my words.

"Yeah. We're definitely going now," Pansy ordered as I covered my mouth to force down more disgusting bile.

"Let's go, then," Crabbe insisted, starting off towards the door.

The other three stayed near me for support as they guided me out the door,.

They practically had to force me through the halls, the nerves coursing through me making my stomach churn even more than it already was. Madame Pomphrey might make me stay there indefinitely. Then there would be no way I could repair the Cabinet or kill my target.

But at the same time, I was glad that my friends were still my friends. I never knew that they cared that much about me. I thought that they only stuck around me because of my last name and to make fun of Potter.

And going to the hospital might not be all bad. The only thing that was really wrong with me was this never-ending nausea, and it would be nice to have that alleviated.

"What're you five doing out of bed?" Filch's voice bellowed as we rounded a corner.

"We're taking Malfoy to the hospital," Pansy answered calmly. "He's sick, sir."

"Oh, yeah?" Filch questioned as he approached, raising his lantern closer to my face. "What's wrong with you today, boy, huh?"

"I'm throwing up," I responded, trying to keep my voice steady as my stomach grumbled in discomfort.

"You sure you didn't just skip dinner?" Filch pressed.

"I found him in a stall in the lavatory," Blaise intervened. "He really was throwing up, sir."

"Yeah, well," the Squib sighed, backing away a little. "I'll go with you. I can't keep you from the hospital if you really are sick, but I have to make sure you get there."

"Not a problem, sir," Pansy agreed.

My stomach lurched once more, sending more of my stomach's contents into my mouth. I replaced my hand in front of my lips to keep back the foul-tasting bile.

"We should get going," Goyle said, noticing my discomfort.

Filched threw a glance at me as I swallowed back the acidic bile and nodded, starting off towards the hospital wing.

Perhaps it was the best thing that I went to the hospital that night. I lost time I could have used to repair the Cabinet or formulate a plan to kill Dumbledore, yes, but it would have been much more difficult if I had continued like I was.

"Madame Pomphrey?" Filch quickly called as we entered the doors of the infirmary.

"Yes, Mister Filch?" the witch responded as she came out of her office.

"There's a student here that says he's sick," Filch explained, gesturing to me.

"Come in, then," Pomphrey ordered.

Filch stepped aside as my friends rushed me forward to a nearby hospital bed.

"Sit down, Mister Malfoy," the nurse urged as I lowered myself onto the edge of one of the hospital beds. "Thank you, Mister Filch. You can return to your rounds."

Madame Pomphrey briskly moved back to us and asked, "What seems to be the problem, Mister Malfoy?"

"I found him throwing up in the bathroom, Madame," Blaise answered for me.

"And he wasn't there for the first half of dinner," Pansy added. "Said he was in the bathroom and that he ate something that didn't agree with him at lunch."

"Is that true, Mister Malfoy?" Pomphrey questioned.

"Mostly," I answered. "I was in the bathroom during the first half of dinner, but it wasn't because of anything I ate at lunch. I didn't eat anything at lunch."

"So you haven't been eating?" Pomphrey interrogated.

"I have been. Just a little, though," I told her. "Don't want to throw it up like I did tonight."

"Has this been happening just today?"

"No," I responded. "It started a week or so before school. After a while, it looked like it had gone away. Guess not."

"Are you allergic to any foods?" she questioned.

"Not that I know of," I said.

"What did you eat at dinner?"

"Just a sandwich and a piece of chicken," I answered.

Madame Pomphrey cupped my chin with her hand and made me look up at her as she place the back of her other hand on my forehead. She then backed away a few steps and drew her wand. The tip of it glowed blue as she leveled it at my abdomen.

"Well, your temperature is a bit too high, and you're dehydrated from throwing up," the nurse explained, lowering her wand. "I can make you something for the next time you get nauseous, if you like."

I nodded to her, and she swiftly moved to a set of cabinets across the room, taking out various containers and vials.

After a few moments, the nurse returned with a small glass bottle filled with an amber liquid, and she held it out to me.

"The next time you feel like throwing up, drink a tablespoon of this, then drink a cup of water, and it'll help get your fever down, as well," Pomphrey instructed as I took the bottle from her. "Drink a lot of water, but drink it slowly. Eat something if you can, but make it small, like a bit of biscuit or some bread. I suggest that you take a day off tomorrow and stay in bed and rest. Have your friends fill you in on the school work."

"I don't have to stay here?" I wondered, fearing that my relief could be heard in my voice.

"Not for something like this," Pomphrey laughed. "If it gets worse, you will have to stay here for a while, but for now, you'll be fine on your own. Be sure to get some rest, though. You don't look like you've been sleeping"

"I've been waking up in the middle of the night the past two weeks to throw up," I muttered, giving them a half-truth.

"Well, this should help with that," Pomphrey said with an encouraging smile.

I nodded in response and rose from the hospital bed.

"Now, off to bed you lot," Pomphrey finished, moving back towards her office.

"Let's go, guys," I suggested as I moved towards the door, the others following close behind me.

Once we got back to the common room, the boys and I parted with Pansy after she wished me well, and we all went to the bathroom to and get ready for the night.

* * *

 _I collapsed to the ground in exhausted pain after yet another Cruciatus Curse. My fourth one that day._

 _When would this stop? Something had to make it stop._

 _I didn't know how long I laid there for, but for once, nothing woke me. There was no splash of water or demands for me to waken, but someone soft did call me, gently shaking my shoulder._

 _My eyes fluttered open, and I struggled to focus my blurred vision to find my father staring at me with worry and regret._

" _I'm sorry about this, Draco," he whispered, his words echoing hollowly. "But you have to understand that neither of us have a choice, now."_

" _Father-" I croaked, carefully trying to raise myself up._

" _No, no. Shh. Lie still," he insisted, gently pushing me back down. "They've allowed you a little reprieve, which is the only reason I can be here. I just came to apologize. I love you, Draco, despite what you may think at times. Rest, now. Get as much sleep as you can. It's the only way you'll be able to keep going, and if you stop now, they might kill you."_

 _My vision worsened as my eyes started to close again._

" _I don't want to keep you awake, but you have to listen," Father rushed, the echo in his voice becoming more profound. "There are only three possible outcomes for this. One: you collapse and die. Two: you don't die, but you can't continue, in which case they will kill you. And three: you live, and you fix that Cabinet and kill Dumbledore. Those are the options you have."_

 _I struggled to focus on Father as my eyes nearly closed without my permission. I tried to understand him, but his words made no sense. My mind was too fogged to understand much of anything other than the fact that I was losing consciousness._

 _Father smiled softly at me and patted my hand, his face and touch growing more and more distant, until I finally lost touch with the world entirely._

* * *

My eyes flew open as I woke from my dream. Or was it a memory? If it was a memory, it was so blurred and distant that it might as well have been a dream.

My father would never look at me like that. He never had before, so why would he now? And he had never apologized for anything in his life. It had to have been a dream.

Either way, it was the best sleep I had gotten since the Dark Lord returned.

 **Hope you guys enjoyed. Until next week with Chapter Eight where you find out what Draco does on his "day off".**


	8. Chapter 8

**"I know how to put on a pretty pathetic show...I'm getting pretty good at feeding them the lines they like." (Icon for Hire, "Theatre")**

 **Copyright: I own nothing. Not even the quote above or the one at the end of this chapter.**

 **Chapter Eight**

During the prescribed day off, I spent the entire day in the Room of Requirement working on the Vanishing Cabinet. I used almost everything I brought with me to repair the magical pathway to the Cabinet in Borgin and Burkes.

I was taught hundreds of different spells-both Light and Dark-that could repair the path, and I spent the whole day casting them. I started with the lighter didn't drain me as much, but no spell that I cast held for longer than a few minutes. Eventually, I moved into the darker spells. I cast them over and over again, but nothing was permanent.

I raised my wand to cast another when my vision blurred and my legs grew weak. I instantly lowered my wand and put a hand to my head to try and steady it. After a while, I thought my head had cleared, but instead of feeling better, my knees gave out, and I fell to the floor.

I released my hold on the end of my wand and laid on the floor for a while, too exhausted to get back up.

Looking back on it, I should have forced myself to leave the Room of Requirement and gone back to the common room, but I was too weak to even pick up my wand that rested just centimeters away.

After a few moments, my eyes slipped closed as I lost consciousness. I wasn't sure how long passed, but eventually, I managed to wake myself and grasp my wand.

I rolled onto my stomach with a grunt and pushed up from the floor, forcing myself to stand. I stumbled a few steps towards the Cabinet, struggling to get my unsteady feet back underneath me. I leaned up against a wall of junk to catch my breath.

I was done for the day. I couldn't go any further.

I breathed deeply, focusing on the magical pathway to the Cabinet in Borgin and Burkes. Some of the shards had come together, making the passage a little more tangible. It wasn't enough to quit, but it was progress.

I raised my wand again waved it at the Cabinet, closing its doors, and with another flick of my wrist, the red covering floated up and placed itself over the Cabinet, concealing it once more.

I slipped my wand back into my pocket and pulled out my father's old pocket watch. It was about an hour before dinner, giving me enough time to head back to the common room and clean myself up. I really wanted to hide away in my bed and sleep, but I was starving.

I put the watch back into my pocket and stumbled through the Room's double doors. I leaned up against one of the stone columns as the doors disappeared from the wall, the world spinning to fast for me to keep walking.

Once my surroundings had settled, I started off towards the Slytherin common room, though I was still stumbling and running into things, making the journey seemed endless. I'm grateful that no one else wasn't there to see. I would have never heard the end of it, especially if it was Peeves that saw. He would've spread word throughout the entire castle like wildfire.

At last, I ended up in the common room, and I ascended the stairs to the boys' dormitory on wobbling legs.

I made my way to my bed, and pulled open the closet door. I stared at myself in the mirror, making sure that I was presentable for dinner. My hair was mussed, my cheeks were sunken in and there were dark circles under my eyes. I could fix the hair, but there wasn't much I could do about the rest of it.

I ran my fingers through my white hair to smooth it down, and adjusted my black suit, so that it would look like there was less wrong with me than there actually was.

A loud grumble from my stomach reminded me of both the time and the tonic that Madame Pomphrey made me the night before. I grabbed the small bottle off of my nightstand and hid it inside one of the pockets of my school robe.

Knowing that dinner would already be started by the time I made it to the Great Hall, I didn't bother to check my watch and left the dormitory.

I ran into Snape halfway to the Hall, and we locked eyes for a moment, making me tense again.

"Any progress?" the professor asked in a hushed tone.

"A little," I answered, mimicking his volume. "It's not enough, but I've made some."

"You look sick," Snape commented.

"I am sick," I responded.

"It's the-"

"Yeah, I know what it is," I interrupted, earning what was considered a disapproving look by Snape's standards. "Can I go eat dinner now?"

Snape didn't respond but calmly walked away, presumably heading to the door to the Great Hall that the professors always entered through. I sighed my tension away when he disappeared around a corner, and I resumed my walk to the main entrance of the Great Hall.

I caught up with a river of students from all Houses flowing into the Great Hall, each one anxious to eat. I wanted so badly to actually eat something tonight, but I wasn't sure if I could, so I was more cautious than excited.

I quickly found my seat at the Slytherin's long table and fell into it, glad I could finally sit down. I placed an elbow on the table and leaned my aching head onto my hand, closing my eyes.

I was so tired. My desire to eat paled in comparison to my desire to sleep.

"Hey, Draco!" Crabbe shouted, sending a pang through my pounding skull as he took his seat beside me.

"Finally decide to join the living, eh?" Goyle mocked, lowering himself into the seat on my other side.

"Couldn't stay in bed anymore," I lied. "And plus. My hunger got the better of me."

"Well, at least you actually want to eat," Pansy joked as she took her seat across from me.

I fake a quiet laugh as Blaise took his spot beside Pansy.

"You remembered that tonic, right?" he wondered.

"Yeah," I said, glad I could answer something truthfully for the night. "Got it right here." I patted the side of my robes.

The food for dinner bloomed onto the table, and I glanced at it all with disgust, nausea rising inside of me at the sight of it.

After a few minutes, Pansy spoke up. "You have to at least try, Draco. You don't want to starve, do you?"

I shrugged and took a small biscuit and a slice of cheese. I took the smallest bite possible of both and put it on my plate, waiting to see if I could keep it down.

"And drink a little, as well," Pansy instructed.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were Madame Pomphrey," I mocked, pouring some water into my goblet.

"Oh, ha-ha," she sighed, getting me to genuinely smile at her. It was a small smile, but it was the first real one I had managed in two years.

I sipped the water, and glanced up at the platform where the the professors and Headmaster ate.

Dumbledore seemed to catch my gaze, and I quickly lowered my head. He wasn't the Headmaster. He was a target. My target. Nothing more.

I picked up my biscuit and cheese and took another small bite. My nerves were shaken at catching Dumbledore's gaze that the tremor in my hand returned, so I dropped the food, and fisted my hand to try to get the shaking to stop.

 **"But I don't recognize the [boy] that I face each night."** ** **(Icon for Hire, "Theatre")****

 ** **I know this chapter was short-ish, but the next one is longer!****

 ** **Until next week!****


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey, guys! Sorry for the late update, but it's better late than never! I have gotten a lot of notes on this story, and I thank you all for commenting and reading. Y'all are awesome!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Chapter Nine**

Later in the year, the morning we were all going to Hogsmeade was the best day I'd had in awhile. I had taken the tonic from Madame Pomphrey, and my sickness had lessened greatly. I continued to cast Dark Spells on the Cabinet in the Room of Requirement, which slowed my physical progress, but it was still the best I had felt in a long time. I could keep food down. My stomach, for once, wasn't protesting against me when I ate anything larger than a biscuit. I was so hungry that my stomach sent pain throughout my entire body, so I ate everything I could at breakfast that day. It earned me a little mocking from Pansy and Blaise about turning into Crabbe and Goyle, but I didn't mind.

It didn't seem like that day could go wrong. I was going to be away from the School, so I couldn't work on the Cabinet. I wouldn't be casting any Dark Spells that day. Finally.

The owls started pouring in for the usual morning post, and I rolled my eyes as Weasley's old bird crashed into Potter's distinctive white one, throwing them both into their table.

A cream-coloured owl gracefully landed on the table in front of me with a note attached to its leg. It was addressed to me.

I untied the letter from the owl's leg and gave it a bit of a muffin in payment. The bird flew off as I broke the wax seal on the letter and unrolled it. It was an encoded message from my father. On the surface, it looked like any letter a father would send his son, but it was actually a check on my progress and a reminder.

Decoded, the message read:

 _Draco,_

 _How are things coming along with the Cabinet. We need to know._

 _And have you made any attempt at taking your target's life as of late? If you were successful, we would hear about it in the papers, but we haven't, so you have either failed, or you haven't tried yet._

 _I know that you will be away from the School for your Hogsmeade trip and unable to work with the Cabinet, but you can still try to accomplish your other task._

 _I will be proud of you when you do. You were chosen for this._

 _He didn't chose you. Well, not entirely. I did. Several names were brought up, and I thought you would be perfect. He and I didn't both chose wrong, did we?_

 _Father_

My hand trembled as I read the words. He suggested me to the Dark Lord? Why? He knew what would happen if You-Know-Who accepted me.

It didn't matter. Father was right. I did have a job to do, and either way, I was chosen for it. I had to do it today.

I had hardened my resolve to kill Dumbledore that morning as we went back to the common room to gather money and other things we might need for the Hogsmeade trip.

I couldn't do it personally. Not yet. If the plan I had in mind at the time failed, I would try again, but I never planned on killing him face-to-face unless I was left with no alternative. I didn't want to watch him die. My guilt was already making my stomach hurt again.

I carefully hid the packaged necklace inside my suit jacket and pulled on my long black overcoat, as I mentally rehearsed my plan.

A girl would have to deliver it to him. It was less suspicious for a woman to deliver a necklace than a man. I would cast the Imperius Curse-the least draining of the Unforgivable Curses-from behind her so she couldn't see who cursed her. The girl would deliver the necklace to Dumbledore, and I would release the curse I placed on her. The Headmaster would open the wrappings and as soon as he touched the case, he would be ripped apart.

* * *

I avoided my friends the entire trip to Hogsmeade. I didn't need any questions about how I was doing or if I wanted to spend time with them. I was already going to do something draining. The last thing I needed was to lie to them.

I would find a girl old enough in the Three Broomsticks. Everyone visited that place at least once during the trips. She had to be at least a Fourth Year. Fourth Years were strong enough to bare the weight of the Curse. Mad-Eye Moody proved that well enough.

I rushed into the Three Broomsticks and quickly shrugged off my snow-dusted overcoat, hanging it on a hook by the door.

I scanned the room to see if a girl of the right age was there, and sure enough, there were plenty.

I weaved my way passed a babbling Slughorn and the other patrons and was about to cross to the lavatories to wait for a girl to walk by, when Potter spotted me as he was sitting down with Granger and Weasley. I froze in place.

He was watching me. He must suspect me of something. Why else would he stare at me like that?

If Potter saw me disappear into the girls' lavatory and then have a girl walk out with a cursed necklace, I would be his only suspect. He would catch me and turn me in. I wouldn't kill Dumbledore, and I wouldn't repair the Cabinet.

He would kill me.

The tremor in my hand reminded me that I had a job to do, and I couldn't let anything get in the way of that.

I bowed my head and quickly disappeared around the corner and into the boys' lavatory, leaving the door open a crack. I watched as Potter's two friends argued about something, and eventually, Slughorn came by their table. "Hey, my boy!" he exclaimed.

"Hello, sir! Wonderful to see you," Potter responded just as loudly as the professor, standing from his chair.

That was my chance.

I swiftly exited the lavatory and slipped into the girls', hiding myself in a corner out of view of both the door and the mirror. I didn't have to wait long before a Sixth Year entered. I couldn't remember her first name, but I thought her last name was Bell. Either way, it didn't matter.

I drew my wand as she approached me, and muttered, "Imperio."

A mist extended out of the end of my wand and overtook the Bell girl, making her freeze. Once I was sure she was fully controlled, I left my hiding place and pulled out the packaged necklace from inside my suit.

"You must deliver this to Professor Dumbledore and no one else," I instructed, giving her the parcel after I made sure it was securely wrapped. I didn't want her to die, after all.

The girl dutifully took the parcel and exited the bathroom with me following close behind. I ducked behind her and wormed my way through the other patrons so no one would notice me.

I sat at an empty table hidden in a darkened corner, far off from the other customers and ordered a butterbeer. It got to me in a minute or so, and I fixed my gaze out the window, closing my eyes so I could keep track of the Bell Girl's movements. Things seemed to be going well, but the girl's friend kept interrogating her, trying to get her to reveal what was inside the parcel.

"Katie, you don't know what it could be," the friend warned. "You shouldn't touch it."

Katie's friend moved in front of her, but because of the Curse I placed on Katie, she was so narrow-sighted that she didn't notice and ran straight into her friend, dropping the package I gave her.

The wrappings had come loose, and Katie bent over to pick up the parcel.

She touched the edge of the necklace and the curse in the jewelry took hold, forcing away my Imperious Curse.

"No," I muttered under my breath as I opened my eyes. "That can't be. She was supposed to…" I had to get out of there.

I dropped the payment for the butterbeer on the table and rushed out of the shop.

"Malfoy!" someone called, making me look up from the snow-covered ground. It was Goyle.

"What?" I yelled over the howling wind.

"We've got to go!" he answered. "Something happened to Katie Bell, and all the professors have ordered us back to the castle! Where's your coat?"

I glanced at him in confusion then looked down at myself. I hadn't noticed I had left my coat at the Three Broomsticks.

"Doesn't matter!" I shouted back. "Let's just go! We probably don't have time to go back and get it!"

Goyle nodded and we both started back for the carriages that would take us back to the castle.

* * *

The news about Katie Bell spread quickly through the whole school, and we all got the rest of the day off because of it. The teachers needed to investigate or something like that.

I used that time to respond to my father's letter in the relative privacy of the boys' dormitory. I wrote it in the same code that he used to right to me this morning and hid the information about what happened that day:

 _Father,_

 _I have made some progress with the Cabinet. From what I can tell, the pathway is almost formed and holding steady. I just need to run some tests on it to see if it can still be used as a transport. I'll try objects first. Then maybe a plant and see if it can survive the trip. Then something like an animal to see if complex life can still pass through._

 _I did recently make an attempt on my target's life, but I have failed. I Cursed a girl to get her to send him the cursed necklace I brought with me, but her friend prevented her from doing so, and she accidentally touched the necklace._

 _I don't know what has become of the girl, but I heard that she was transported to a real hospital, and is no longer in the school._

 _She didn't see me when I Cursed her, so she won't be able to name me as the one who made her do it, but I did fail._

 _I'm sorry, Father._

 _Draco_

 **Hope you guys enjoyed! Until next week!  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey, guys! Time for yet another chapter!**

 **Copyright: I own nothing!**

 **Chapter Ten**

The next morning, I sat apart from my friends as they babbled and ate their breakfast. I couldn't bring myself to even put something on my plate, let alone eat. My mind was too focused on other things.

I was going to get caught. Potter saw me. He suspected me.

I didn't know what to do. The only thing I had left to kill Dumbledore was some poison, but I couldn't use it yet. The security around the Headmaster would be raised considering that someone tried to give him a cursed necklace, and if that poison failed, I would have to do it personally.

The owls and other messenger birds squawked as the entered, the same cream-coloured bird from the day before landing in front of me. I gently unhooked the letter from the owl's leg and gave him a piece of bread, taking a deep breath of preparation before opening the letter.

As I suspected, it was from Father, and hidden under the code, he was very angry:

 _How could you fail? We trained you well enough. You passed every test._

 _I understand that you might still be feeling the effects of the weeks before school, but I expected you to be recovered enough by now._

 _You have enough time to try again before they come, but if he's not dead by then, someone else will do it for you, and trust me, you will not like the results if that happens._

 _Father_

I slowly lowered the letter onto the table. My hand was shaking uncontrollably. I had to kill Dumbledore and fix that Cabinet before they came. If I didn't, I was going to die.

* * *

After that morning, I only returned to the Great Hall for a few minutes to create an alibi before disappearing to the Room of Requirement. For weeks, the Room was the only place I went during breaks in the school day.

I skipped every meal, and only ate enough to dispel my hunger pains. I spent my time doing something more productive than eating, and I planned on continuing the morning of Weasley's first Quidditch match as Keeper. That is, until my friends said that they noticed me absences.

"Now, you're coming to breakfast, and you're eating at least a piece of toast," Pansy ordered as we left the common room.

I didn't say anything. I knew I needed to eat, but I couldn't bring myself to. I was too worried about the Cabinet and my plan to kill Dumbledore. I had to do both, and I only had so much time to do so.

"And you're coming to the match, as well," Blaise added while Crabbe and Goyle ran ahead to the Great Hall. "No sneaking off. One of us will notice."

My friends forced me inside the Hall and into a seat at the Slytherin table. I waited for them to be distracted enough with their conversations and food before I slid down a place. I should have worked on the Cabinet and ignored my friends, but Pansy and Blaise were watching me and would have probably noticed if I had left.

"Hey, Malfoy!" Crabbe laughed, hitting me in the shoulder to get my attention. "Doesn't Weasley look ridiculous?" he laughed gesturing towards the doors of the Hall.

The redhead stood awkwardly at in the doorway, looking scared to death in his Quidditch gear. The gear was clunky and a little to big for him. He was terribly pale and looked like he was on the brink of losing his breakfast before he even ate it.

"Yeah," I fake chuckled. "Ridiculous."

Crabbe returned his attention to his food and mocked Weasley with Goyle for the remainder of breakfast.

After a while, the students started to file out to the Quidditch pitch, and I took the opportunity to slip away, but before I could, Blaise caught me by the back of my collar.

"Oh, no you don't, Malfoy," he laughed. "You're coming to the match."

I groaned as he dragged me off with the rest of the crowd.

* * *

I sat as rigid as the cold air on the frozen stands, the deafening cheering of the audience blending into nothing but white noise to fit the whitened surroundings.

It was winter and almost time for Christmas break. I would have to go home to my father and tell him my failures in person, and who knows what they would do to me because of those failures. They might "train" me again. I couldn't go through that for a second time.

"Can you believe it, Malfoy?" Crabbe shouted. "Weasley won the whole match! He blocked every single shot!"

Glancing down to the Quidditch Pitch confirmed what he said. Hundreds of students of every House-except Slytherin-were on the field, lifting Potter and his friend above them and shouting in celebration.

"Yeah," I mumbled distractedly. "It bites."

I quickly rose and left with the other members of Slytherin House, trying to put as much distance as possible between myself and my friends, so I could escape and work with the Cabinet some more. It worked well enough, and I was able to slip off to the Room of Requirement. I was almost done. Just a few more spells, and the pathway would be repaired. After that, all I had to do was test it. It wasn't enough to fix the path. I had to be sure that it could transport life. I would be an even bigger failure otherwise.

I spent the rest of the day in the Room. It was the weekend, so we didn't have class, and no one cared that I was absent for the day. That was proven when I left the Room and joined the other students just after dinner. The rest of Slytherin House, including my friends, asked me how I enjoyed dinner and complained about the Quidditch loss. They didn't even notice that I had left.

The last thing I needed was time spent with people who didn't care, so I slipped off again and retreated to the Astronomy Tower, leaning over the railing and stared at the ground far below.

" _I might just pitch myself off of the Astronomy Tower if I thought I had to continue for another two years."_

While everyone else was either celebrating a win or complaining about a loss, I was left with nothing. They had their marks to worry about, and in a way, so did I, but in my case, both a pass and a failure meant death.

I tapped my father's ring against the metal railing, the clanging echoing though the night. It was supposed to make him feel close to me, but I felt the opposite. I had no one, and based on my last correspondence with my father, I didn't have him either.

 **This is the beginning of the darkness for Draco.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey, everybody! Time for another chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Chapter Eleven**

I finished it. The path was formed, and the Cabinet was repaired, but I didn't know if the passage would hold. I left it alone for a few days to see if it would remain stable. I didn't want to put undue stress on it. I checked up on it every day for a week, and the magical pathway never faltered. It was time to test it, but with the mid-term exams coming up, I had no time. I was overloaded with school work, and some of my friends wanted my help with studies, which was ironic because they wanted help with _Defense Against_ the Dark Arts.

Word quickly spread that Professor Slughorn's Slug Club was throwing a Christmas party for its members, and I used that as a distraction. Most of the professors would be there, and many of the students were either invited, plus-ones or waiters for the party, so the halls would be empty.

I swiped an apple from the dinner table, and as the other students filed back to their common rooms to get ready, I moved to the decorated hall near the room that the party as being held in, the Room of Requirement residing in the corridor just above it. I took shelter behind a column as students began to appear and waited for the last of the invited students and their dates to head in.

I had to wait for an hour before Potter finally arrived with his date. I still can't believe that he took the Lovegood girl.

"I've never been to this part of the castle. At least not while awake," she said dreamily. "I sleepwalk, you see. That's why I wear shoes to bed."

I chuckled softly at her entertaining ridiculousness as they passed, disappearing around the corner and into the loud party.

I took the chance and came out of my hiding place, ascending the stairs to the other corridor and coming to the wall that would form the Room's doors. I closed my eyes and summoned the Room, the two birds tweeting loudly in their twin cages.

I tossed the apple up and down in my anxiety as I entered, pleading that it would work. I quickly found the Cabinet and ripped its patterned covering off, letting it fall to the floor. I opened the creaking doors and placed the apple on the floor of the Cabinet, locking it inside.

I closed my eyes and focused on the Cabinet's spell. "Harmonia Nectere Passus," I whispered, forcing the apple through the passageway I had formed.

A whooshing sound came from the Cabinet, and I snapped my eyes open, a spark of hope lighting inside of me.

I cautiously opened the Cabinet doors, praying that my hope wasn't in vein.

The Vanishing Cabinet was empty. It had worked, but making something disappear wasn't enough. It had to come back, too.

I sealed the Cabinet doors once again, and shut my eyes, reciting the spell. The first time, it had no effect. The apple stayed in the other Cabinet, and I almost panicked. I muttered the spell again, picturing myself dragging the apple through the passage.

After a moment, the same whooshing sound came again and I quickly opened my eyes and clicked the Cabinet doors open.

The apple had returned, and I picked it up to examine it. There were no signs of damage other than the bite taken out of it. That was the signal that we had arranged. It had gotten through.

The corners of my mouth twitched upwards, and I took a bite on the other side of the apple in celebration.

It tasted so was the first time in in weeks that I actually noticed my hunger.

But I couldn't finish my reward. The time passed a lot more quickly than I though it would, and it was much more difficult getting out than going in. Patrols from the professors and other staff were minimalistic getting to the Room of Requirement because of the party, but it was halfway through that party, now, so the security was much higher.

I took one last bite of the sour green apple before I tossed it to a random place in the Room. The apple crashed into a wall of junk, dislodging several small pieces as I exited.

"Malfoy!" a voice called as the Room's doors disappeared.

I turned to find Filch charging towards me, grabbing my upper arm once he got to me. "Sick again, are you?" he demanded, a little saliva flying off of his mouth. "No friends this time, I see. You're coming with me."

"Hey! I was heading to Slughorn's party! I was invited." I protested, quickly thinking up a story.

"Oh, really?" Filch wondered. "Well then, let's be sure you get there."

Filch marched off, his hand still gripping my arm. It didn't take long for him to tow me into Slughorn's party. "Get your hands off me, you filthy Squib!" I shouted as we entered, trying to pry my arm from his hold with my shaking hand.

All the action in the party froze, and everyone turned towards us.

"Professor," Filch addressed as Slughorn approached to see what the commotion was. "I found this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party."

"Okay, okay. I was gate crashing!" I conceded, changing my story before I could panic. I couldn't get caught. "Happy?"

Snape calmly walked up to us, cutting through the party's tension like a knife. "I'll escort him out."

Filch tossed my arm away as I looked up at Snape. "Certainly. Professor," I agreed. I spit the last word, though I couldn't have been happier to leave that room.

Snape walked briskly out of the party with me at his side, leading me down the next hall.

He told me not to tell him anything I do, but I had to get it off of my chest.

"Maybe I did hex that Bell girl," I breathed. "Maybe I didn't. What's it to you?"

Out of nowhere, Snape rushed at me, pressing my back into the rough stone wall. "I swore to protect you," he hissed. "I made the Unbreakable Vow."

"I don't need protection. I was chosen for this. Out of all others. Me," I responded, desperately trying to hide my fear. "I will not fail him."

"You're afraid, Draco," Snape countered, seeing something my own father never could. "You attempt to conceal it, but it is obvious. Let me assist you."

"No!" I quietly protested, pushing him off. "I was chosen. This is my moment."

Now, I regret refusing Snape's help, but back then, I didn't think I needed help.

 **Christmas Break will come, and Draco will journey home. But there, he'll have to face his father.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello, everyone! It's time for another Chapter! Last we left Draco, he had made a failed attempt to kill Dumbledore and successfully made an apple go through the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement, though he was nearly caught by Filch.**

 **Chapter Twelve**

Christmas break came much too quickly. I had to go home. I had to face my aunt, my father and the other Death Eaters. and report on my failures.

My hand did nothing but tremble the entire train ride to the Platform. When the others in my compartment left to buy something from the trolley, I held my shaking hand up to the window to examine it in a better light.

What was this? It happened whenever I thought of the other Death Eaters, my father or what I had to do. If I wasn't focused on something or actually working on the Cabinet or formulating a plan to kill Dumbledore, my hand would shake. Occasionally during class, when we cast spells, flashes of memory would come to the forefront of my mind, and my hand would tremble, sending my aim askew or making me mess up the spell entirely. It was almost always during DADA in front of Snape. He looked at me disapprovingly when it happened, which made my tremor worse.

"Do you want something, Mister Malfoy?" the lady from the trolley called, drawing my attention.

I was about to decline when my stomach quietly grumbled, sending a spear of pain through my torso.

I looked back up at her and nodded, taking out a small sack of coins from my pocket. I didn't care what I got just as long as it was savory rather than sweet.

* * *

"Glad to have you home, Draco," Mother greeted, drawing me into her arms.

I leaned into her, overwhelmed with an emotion I hadn't felt in a while. It's been so long that I could scarcely name it. Before that emotion could break through to the outside, I backed away from her. "Got to get my trunk," I said, rushing away.

I retrieved my case quickly from the pile of others' things and turned to leave but found my pathway blocked by Potter who narrowed his eyes slightly at the sight of me.

"Malfoy," he spat.

"Potter," I returned. "Your nose is looking better."

He laughed sardonically before shoving me out of the way to retrieve his trunk. "Have you heard from Katie Bell recently?" he asked, making me look back at him.

"Who? That girl who got hexed at Hogsmeade?" I wondered, feigning ignorance with a slight shake of my head. "No. Why would I? I hadn't even heard of her until what happened at Hogsmeade."

"It's all right," Potter said, abruptly leaving the luggage pile and joining the Weasleys.

* * *

A few days after I arrived home, my mother, father and I were having a family dinner when my father finally asked me what I have been dreading since before break even began. "Have you made a second attempt?"

"I plan to," I explained, swirling my pasta-filled soup around my bowl.

"How?" Father wondered.

"Poison," I answered. "Professor Slughorn has a bottle of mead that's wrapped like a gift. I just noticed it the day before break began, so I'll find an opportunity to poison it when we get back."

"How can you be sure it's meant for Dumbledore?" Father inquired, swallowing a spoonful of his soup.

"Slughorn was writing a note addressed to him," I responded. "And he said he was going on some kind of holiday during break, so I don't think he's going to be able to give it to him until term resumes."

The three of us sat in an uncomfortable silence of the rest of dinner. I had no idea what to say or if I should say anything at all. Half of me was glad for the quiet, but the other half of me was filled to the brim with nerves that were coiling tighter and tighter the longer the silence persisted.

I was overjoyed later that night when I was allowed to retreat to my room. As I was getting ready for bed, a knock sounded at my door. "Come in," I answered, slipping the last button into its slot on my night shirt.

"Draco?"

"Yes, Father?" I called, leaving my private bathroom.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," I responded, confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just didn't eat much at dinner," he answered.

"I'm not hungry."

"But you look like you are," Father warned.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, Draco, but you don't look healthy. You look like you haven't slept in weeks, and your clothes are hanging off of you like drapes."

Simultaneously confused and curious, I opened my one of my wardrobe's doors and looked myself over in the full-length mirror on the inside, and sure enough, I looked exhausted and underweight. My cheekbones were sharper than they ever were before, and there were half-moons under my eyes that were so dark that they looked black.

"Are you okay, Draco?" Father repeated, getting me to look at him. "And don't just say that you are to get rid of me, but answer honestly."

After a moment, I slowly answered, "Not really." I cast my gaze to the floor. "I couldn't eat anything for the first few weeks after I got to school. I threw up whatever I ate, and I couldn't sleep for the same reason. My friends noticed and dragged me to see Madame Pomphrey, and she gave me a tonic that helped."

"C-can you keep food down now?" my father stuttered as he came closer to me.

"Yeah. I just don't feel like eating."

"So don't eat big meals. Eat a few small things throughout the day," Father instructed, and I nodded in response.

"So, you would wake up in the middle of the night to throw up?" my father asked after a moment of silence.

"Sometimes," I answered.

"And other times?"

I hesitated as my mind drifted back to my various nightmares, my hand beginning to tremble again. I turned towards my father and put my hands behind my back, grabbing my right hand with my left and squeezing it.

"Draco?" he asked again, a note of warning in his voice.

"I just can't sleep," I answered.

"Why?" he pressed.

I looked down again, squeezing my hand harder as the tremor worsened.

"Nightmares?" Father asked.

I didn't answer, but it seemed that he took my silence as a "yes" because he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and said, "You know you don't have to be worried. I have total faith in you. You will repair the Cabinet and kill Dumbledore. So you failed once." He lifted his hand and waved it in the air in dismissal. "You can always try again. You have plenty of time."

I glanced up at him and smiled gently. He patted my shoulder and left my room.

He was trying to be encouraging, but the only thing he succeeded in doing was making my heart hammer against my chest.

Father had faith in me, but what would happen if I failed? I didn't hate my father, but we weren't all that close. Becoming a Death Eater seemed to have brought us a lot closer than before, but if I failed, would he hate me?

* * *

 _Dumbledore fell at my feet, choking on the poison I slipped into his drink. I laughed in a sick sort of pleasure as he died._

" _You really think you can kill me, Draco?" he mocked, rising to his feet._

" _No," I whispered stumbling back a few steps. "I killed you."_

" _No, you didn't," he laughed. "You failed."_

 _With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore Apparated away, and I was left alone until my father shouted my name._

" _How could you fail?" Father demanded, gripping both of my arms. "I put my faith in you!"_

" _I tried, Father," I pleaded._

" _But you did not succeed," he countered, pushing me to the floor._

* * *

I sat straight up in bed with a shout, my heart beating so hard that it was like a drum in my ear. I threw my covers off and quickly left my room, needing fresh air.

I think the worst part about that dream was that I enjoyed it. I enjoyed killing my Headmaster.

But then there was my father. He hated me for my failure.

But it was just a dream. It wouldn't happen in reality. It couldn't. Father would still care for me if I failed, right?

"He's scared, Lucius," a soft voice commented as I passed the front room of our manor, making me freeze.

"What makes you say that?" my father's voice shouted quietly.

"His hand shakes," the other man answered. "He can barely cast spells in class."

I moved closer to the wall and craned my neck around the open door to find Professor Snape conversing with my father.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Father questioned harshly. "As if your hands are perfectly steady."

"They are more steady than your son's," Snape countered. Everyone can see his tremor. It's only in one hand, and it only happens at certain times."

"Such as?"

"When he reads your letters in the morning. When he's afraid," Snape explained. "He was brought into one of the professors' Christmas party. I assume he was working on the Cabinet, but his right hand was shaking, and he looked terrified."

"That doesn't mean anything," my father retorted. "He was probably just scared that he would be caught."

"And you know what that would mean, yes?" Snape interrogated.

My father looked down at the floor and didn't say anything in response, his breathing growing visibly shaky.

When Father continually remained silent, Snape answered his own question. "The Dark Lord _will_ kill him if he does not succeed."

"Then help him," Father quietly snapped glancing back up at Snape.

"I can only offer so much help. The Dark Lord still wants me inside the school, so I cannot be seen helping your son repair a Vanishing Cabinet that can pass through the schools protections. There is no telling the consequences that would befall both of us. And he continually refuses my help. I offered it to him before Christmas break began, but he refused it."

"Then help him anyway," Father countered. "I don't care if the Dark Lord loses his inside man. I will _not_ let him kill my son."

"The Dark Lord will kill you if you stand in his way," Snape reminded, something akin to sadness in his voice. "And you would only manage to give your son a few extra minutes of life. He will not hesitate to kill you both. No matter how much you plead with him."

"Then I hope Draco will cherish those few extra minutes. I refuse to let anyone kill my son."

I ran back to my room, an ice cold fear tightening my chest.

I was right. You-Know-Who would kill me if I failed, and I had already failed once.

I had to try again. As soon as term resumed.

 **Hope you guys enjoyed! Have a great day, and thanks for reading! Until next week!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey, everybody! Time for a new chapter! This one is short, I know, but there are longer ones to come! And this might be four days late, but Happy (late) Halloween!**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

The first day that term resumed, I stayed back after Potions Class had ended. Slughorn shook hands with students at the door and said goodbye to each of them. I waited until Potter, Weasley and Granger had left the classroom before silently moving towards the professor's desk and quickly searched for the gift-wrapped bottle meant for Dumbledore.

I almost panicked because of how long I spent searching for it. The class had almost entirely vanished from the room by the time I found it hidden away in a drawer and pulled it out. I placed it on top of the desk and swiftly unwrapped the neck of the bottle. I pulled the stopper out and reached into the pocket of my robes for the vial of poison inside. I uncapped the vial and poured all of its contents into the bottle of mead. I picked up the gift and swirled the bottle to mix the poison so it wouldn't be detected.

Once I had finished, I put the cork back into the opening of the bottle, pulled out my wand repaired the wrapping I had undone.

I replaced the bottle where I had found it and left Slughorn's desk. All of the students had gone and the professor was closing the door, surely thinking that all of his students had left.

"Oh. Mister Malfoy," he greeted, realizing I was still in the room. "I thought you had gone."

"I thought I had forgotten something," I covered.

"And did you?" he questioned.

"Yes, sir," I answered. "But I've got it, now."

"Yes. Good. Well it's best you get to your next class," Slughorn instructed, gesturing towards the door.

"Yes, sir," I said, rushing out of the classroom.

I couldn't sleep for days. Sooner or later, Dumbledore would drink that poisoned mead and die, and Slughorn might die, too. I was jumpy and on edge, my stomach turning to knots every time I saw Slughorn or Dumbledore, but a few days later word passed around that Weasley was poisoned and in the school's hospital, but that couldn't be. That bottle was clearly meant for Dumbledore, so how could Weasley get his hands on it? He wasn't supposed to die. I might not have ever liked Weasley, but I never wished for him to die.

I stayed behind after Potions class again to ask Slughorn what he knew about it. He either knew nothing or everything, but if he knew everything I would have been arrested for attempted murder. And it wouldn't hurt my conscience to ask how Ron was doing.

"Well, Mister Malfoy, I don't know exactly what happened. Mister Potter came to me late at night with Mister Weasley in tow saying that his friend had somehow taken a very powerful love potion. I helped him and make an antidote. It worked but then Weasley said that he felt ill, and I thought that some sort or pick-me-up would help him, so I poured the three of us a glass of mead. Mister Weasley drank before Mister Potter and myself, and then he was on the floor."

"So you don't know who could have poisoned him," I interrogated, pleading that he didn't.

"Haven't the foggiest," the professor replied, regret in his voice. "It's odd though."

"What's odd, Professor?" I asked politely, moving the conversation towards where I needed it to be.

"I intended to give that bottle of mead as a gift, and I had it wrapped up as such, and it never left my side," Slughorn voiced. "The wrapping wasn't damaged at all, and the cork was still in place. No one could have poisoned it."

"I'm sorry, Professor," I uttered, finally learning what I needed to. "I hope you figure it out."

"Yes. So do I," Slughorn answered. "You should get to class."

"Yes, sir," I responded, briskly walking out of the door.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I couldn't focus on anything. All I could think about was Dumbledore.

I had failed again. I had nothing left. Nothing to help me kill him. I had no choice anymore. I had to do it personally. I had to cast a Killing Curse. It was the only thing I could do.

But I couldn't. I didn't want to see him die.

We were finally able to go back to the common room after dinner, and I quickly went to bed with the rest of my friends. I got ready as I normally would, but I was terrified to sleep. There was no doubt in my mind that I would have nightmares, and I didn't know what I would see in them.

* * *

I jolted awake at around two in the morning, drenched in a cold sweat. I can barely remember that nightmare, but it was a swirl of terrifying images and conflicting emotions. I was so scared because of what I had to do, but I wanted to do what I was scared of because the thought of not doing it scared me even more.

I had to kill Dumbledore or the Dark Lord would kill me. My father said that he would protect me, but that would do nothing other than get us both killed.

My chest tightened as my breathing grew shaky. It didn't take long for my eyes to water and silent sobs to begin to wrack my throat. I pulled my knees close to my chest, my comforter draped over my legs. I wrapped my arms around my knees and rested my forehead against them.

I sniffled and choked on sobbs. I couldn't wake anyone, but I couldn't keep it contained any longer. I didn't want their questions, but I had nothing left to make me feel better. Nothing could help, and nothing would until it was over.

 **(At risk of sounding like a TV show preview) Terrified and stressed, Draco has nearly killed someone he never meant to and is being forced to kill someone face-to-face. Next week, Draco will have to face Ronald Weasley continue with the Vanishing Cabinet, but he has no idea if he even can.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello, everyone! A later update, I know, but I did see (Loki) Thor: Ragnarok today! Hooray!**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

A few weeks later, Weasley was out of the hospital and came to Potions like nothing was wrong. Potter gave me his usual glare that I didn't have the energy to return as he passed.

"Good morning, class," Slughorn greeted pleasantly. "Good to have you back, Weasley."

"Good to be back, sir," the redhead returned with a small smile.

I turned towards Ron and scanned him up and down. He seemed to be alright. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn't. It would reveal everything if I did.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Weasley demanded heatedly, giving me a hardened glare.

I didn't answer. I looked back to Slughorn as he explained the potion we would practice, guilt making my heart clench.

"Off you go and start!" Slughorn exclaimed waving us away.

I was too distracted to hear the recipe our professor named, so I followed Blaise, grabbed the same ingredients as he did and walked back to our station. I discreetly watched my friend as he flipped to the potion's recipe and turned to the same page in my own textbook.

I didn't care what we were making, but I lazily followed the recipe anyway, my mind anywhere but that class. It drifted from one thing to the next, never lingering on one topic for more than a minute.

"Careful, Malfoy!" Blaise exclaimed, grabbing my wrist. I looked up at him and found him staring at me with fear. "You almost just cut your wrist!" my friend yelled, his grip tightening.

"Everything alright here?" Slughorn asked as he approached us, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Everything's fine," I answered calmly, releasing my knife and gently prying my wrist free of Blaise's grasp.

"Yeah," Blaise reluctantly agreed. "Just fine."

Thankfully, Slughorn nodded and walked off, though he kept throwing worry-filled glances our way.

"What were you doing, Malfoy?" Blaise whispered with concern.

"I don't know," I answered, mimicking his volume. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Well, you should, considering that we're handling knives," Blaise warned, looking at me pointedly.

As if in agreement, the sound of an explosion came from Finnigan's station, leaving him looking dazed and covered in soot as the tips of his hair caught fire.

I smirked in amusement and turned to Blaise. "At least I'm paying more attention than him."

Blaise chuckled quietly and turned his attention back to his potion.

After class, I skipped lunch and went to work on the Cabinet in the Room of Requirement. It was almost ready. The apple got through fine, but the apple wasn't technically alive. I had to use the one of the birds in the nearby double cage as a test subject.

I gently opened the cages and used an Accio charm to prevent the animal from escaping. I cupped my hand and carefully covered the creature with my other hand.

Footsteps echoed behind me in the corridor, and I instantly turned to face the direction of the sound. The tip of a black robe quickly disappeared around a corner, and I stood there for a moment, pleading that whoever that robe belonged to was just passing through.

After several moments of seeing no one, I relaxed a little and resumed my walk to the Room of Requirement. I threw cautious glances behind me to make sure no one was following, but no matter how much I checked, I never saw anyone. The only footsteps that echoed in the hall were my own.

By the time I reached the Room, I had almost forgotten about my potential follower. My mind had drifted to the Cabinet as I prepared myself for any failures. There were only four possible scenarios. One: everything works out fine. Two: the bird wouldn't go through. In which case, I would have to continue repairing the magical passage between the two Cabinets. Three: the bird would go through and not come back and get lost in oblivion. Four: The bird goes through but doesn't survive.

Anything would have been better than scenario four.

I opened the Cabinet and released the bird on it's floor. I sealed the door and spotted one of the animal's feathers clinging to the sleeve of my robe. I plucked it off of my clothes and held to the light, inspecting it as I recited the Cabinet's spell in my mind until a sound emitted from the Cabinet.

I opened the door to the Cabinet with caution. I couldn't hear the bird's tweeting, but that could mean that the bird was either dead or had gone to the other Cabinet. I hoped for the latter.

The bird had vanished. So far so good. Things might be looking up.

I closed the door again and shut my eyes, anxiously repeating the spell in my mind again. That same whooshing sound came from the Cabinet and my eyes flew open. I grasped the handle of the Cabinet door with my shaking hand and slowly pulled it down, preparing myself for what I might find inside.

The bird was dead. The small body rested face down on the floor, its white feathers crumpled.

My heart sank to the floor. I didn't understand. I did everything perfectly. The apple went through fine. What did I do wrong?

Before I could stop it, my emotions swelled to an unbearable peak, and I was grateful a was alone. My breathing quickly grew shaky and my sight blurred. I stood there for the rest of the lunch hour leaning against the Cabinet and crying, growing steadily louder until I slid to the floor and brought my knees to my chest.

Eventually, I was able to pick myself up from the floor and close the Cabinet doors, shutting that moment away. I couldn't hide in the Room forever. I had to seem normal. I would fix this.

I had to.

As I moved towards the Room's exit, I spotted myself in a cracked, full-length mirror. I looked like the mess I felt I was. My eyes were red, there were tear streaks running down my face and my hair was sticking up where I had leaned against the Cabinet.

I used my sleeves and wiped my eyes, removing the evidence of my tears, then I combed my hair back down with my fingers.

I left the Room and continued on with my day.

 **Just a reminder: This whole thing, so far, has been a flashback. Next week, we'll catch up to real time.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey, guys! Happy Early Thanksgiving! Thank goodness this chapter is a bit longer than the other recent ones. Hooray!**

 **So. As a reminder, everything up till now has been a flashback in the story. In the first chapter, Draco runs into the boy's bathroom and has a little "Mulan 'Reflection'" moment, stares at himself in the mirror and launches the story as he thinks about all that he's done. Now, we come full circle and arrive back at the present.**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

The day after my failure-today, actually-I woke up and laid around in bed for a while, not having the energy to get up. My sleep last night was restless. I woke up at least five times from nightmares. I rolled over and went back to sleep, but nothing I did would make the nightmares stop. I got about three hours of sleep last night.

I was so tired, but I couldn't show it. I couldn't ever show it. Not with my friends, not with my family, and especially not the other Death Eaters.

I was the last person out of bed in my dorm, and I was the last one to leave the common room.

I had to finish that Cabinet. They were coming soon. I didn't know when, but it was soon.

I skipped the first half of breakfast and went to the Room of Requirement. I quickly grabbed the other bird fluttering in the twin cages and brought it to the Room. I rushed to find the Cabinet and didn't bother taking the patterned covering off. I cast a few strong Dark spells on the Cabinet in one last attempt to fix the passage. I cracked open the door and placed the black bird on the floor of the wardrobe. I sealed the door and whispered, "Harmonia Nectere Passus."

The magical sound readily emitted from the Cabinet and I quickly opened the door, finding that the animal had vanished.

I took a deep breath to calm myself as I closed the door again. That happened last time. The bird could still die on its way back.

I muttered the spell again, and the indicating noise came from behind the Cabinet door. I waited for a moment and put a hand to the door, not wanting to open it. I couldn't shake the feeling that the bird had died like the last one.

Quiet tweeting soon greeted me, and it made my heart soar. I had done it. The bird went to the Cabinet in Borgin and Burkes and came straight back. I had fixed the Cabinet.

Finally.

I pulled out my watch and found that there was only a half hour of breakfast left, so I left the Room and quickly made my way to the Great Hall, my relief and gladness making me move faster than I should have.

I thought that this day might finally be a good one, but I was proven wrong when I got to the Great Hall.

Potter stood between two tables talking with a Gryffindor girl, but I didn't think anything of it until I got within earshot of them. "I'm trying to remember, honestly. But I just can't," the girl finished. The girl spotted me behind Potter and leaned around him to get a better look at me, and I recognized her as the girl that I Cursed before Christmas break.

A hint of recognition passed through her eyes, and Potter turned around and glared at me accusingly.

No. They couldn't know. I was too careful.

I glanced around for an escape, but there wasn't any except back the way I came. I rapidly retreated out the doors of the Great Hall before Potter could accuse me of anything. My emerald tie grew suffocatingly tight around my throat, and I loosened it before it could choke off my air.

I couldn't get caught. I would be expelled from Hogwarts and arrested for Cursing Bell, and then the Death Eaters would kill me for failing.

I glanced behind me as my hand flew to my tie again. Why was this thing so tight?

I had finally gotten to the boys' lavatory where I could get a little privacy. There was most likely not going to be anyone in the bathroom because it was breakfast, and that was all I needed right now: to be alone.

My vest suddenly became just as stifling as my tie, so I ripped it off and dropped it on the floor. It instantly became cooler, but it wasn't cool enough. I was dying from the heat of my panic.

I looked up and stared at my own pale face in the mirror.

How did I end up here?

I'm just a kid.

Two years ago, all I had to worry about was who won the Triwizard Tournament. Now, I'm facing death at every turn. Whether I passed or failed, someone was going to die. All I can do is make sure that it's not my family or myself that dies.

But I can't do that if Potter suspects me.

I turned on the water and splashed it in my face to rinse away the lingering emotion, or I tried to.

The emotions inside me bubbled up and spilled over like they did in the Room of Requirement yesterday, but my crying didn't start slow and quiet like yesterday. My tears sprang instantly from my eyes, and loud sobs wracked my throat.

"I know what you did, Malfoy," a familiar voice called making me look behind my reflection in the mirror. "You hexed her, didn't you?" Potter interrogated.

He couldn't be here. He couldn't know. He had to leave.

I flipped around, preparing myself to make him leave, and threw a stunning spell at him, but he dodged, the spell splintering a wooden storage closet instead of hitting him. Potter instantly turned back around and returned the spell, though I managed to turn in time and avoid it. The spell hit a sink, sending a spray of plaster and water in every direction.

I quickly hid behind the row of stalls, wanting nothing more than for Potter to mind his own business. Why couldn't he ever do that? He always poked his head into where it didn't belong.

Potter appeared around the stalls, and I quickly threw another stunning spell at him. He ducked back behind the stalls, avoiding my spell-which hit one of the mirrors and cracked it into a few dozen pieces-and didn't reappear.

After a few seconds of waiting, I went behind the stalls to get out of my vulnerable position. I kneeled down on the floor and scanned the room in search of Potter. I spotted his reflection in a broken mirror, but he quickly vanished.

After a moment, Potter's shadow formed on the floor as he started to kneel down, and soon after that, his arms appeared. Before he could get the chance to even lift his wand, I threw another stunning spell at him that missed and hit a sink pipe, flooding the floor with water.

I couldn't let him gain the upper hand. If I did, he would stun me and report me to either Dumbledore or McGonagall, and who knows what would happen after that.

I quickly stood and rounded the stalls to confront him directly, the bangs of Potter's random shots growing louder with every second.

I reached the last stall at the same time as he did, and before I had raised my wand to stun him, he shouted, "Sectumsempra!"

The unknown spell blasted me to the floor as it tore through me. I had to get up and fight back, but there was too much pain. I was being cut everywhere. My arms, my chest, my stomach. Every part of me burned and ached.

My already heightened emotions piqued again with the pain, forcing its way out in new tears.

How did I end up here?

Ten minutes ago, I was facing death, but now it was here. Half of me was fighting against it, but the other half of me didn't care. Why did I have to fight it? Why should I? If I lived, I would have to kill someone, but if I died, no one would have any problems. Potter and his friends would have an unobstructed path to Voldemort, and they would destroy the him. The world would be better off. No one would take over the school. Dumbledore would live. My parents would be free of him.

But how long would it take Harry, Ron and Hermione to get rid of Voldemort? No one could guess. They could take the rest of our school careers or longer, and the Dark Lord might kill my family, anyway, for my failure.

My family or myself?

Faint splashing sounded somewhere in the room, but it was so echoey that the sound blended with the river of water spewing out of the broken pipes, making it meaningless. Something brushed by me before a slow and hollow voice whispered, "Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur."

I didn't know what the distant words meant, but the more the man repeated them, the more the pain went away, so nothing mattered in the world other than the vanishing pain.

"Malfoy?" the same voice called. "Malfoy?"

I turned my head in the direction of the voice as my eyes fluttered open, and I found the blurred figure of Snape.

"Are you alright?" he echoed.

I didn't have the energy to answer. My eyesight worsened, and for a second I thought that the bathroom was our courtyard at home as a memory of the weeks before school surfaced.

"Focus, Malfoy," Snape hissed, gently slapping my cheek, making the vision of our courtyard disappear.

"What happened?" an unfamiliar voice shouted.

Snape glanced up at the voice and ordered, "Go get Madame Pomphrey."

No response came, but rapid splashing accompanied retreating steps.

I was so tired.

"Wake up, Malfoy!"

My eyes snapped open, and I found that I was being moved, the stone of the arched ceiling flashing by.

"You're gonna be alright, Mister Malfoy," a voice said.

I tried to find the source, but my sight was so blurred that everything ran together, like someone had splashed water over fresh ink. I didn't recognize anyone.

Everything faded as my eyes slipped closed again, and I couldn't open them again for a while. Voices faded in and out of the darkness, their words becoming clearer and clearer, over time.

"...he okay?" a voice asked.

"He'll be fine," a woman answered. "What Professor Snape did saved his life, but who knows what happened to him. You don't know what happened, do you Mister Potter?"

He didn't answer for a moment, and I thought that my awareness had faded again, so I forced my head to turn in the direction of their sound, struggling to get my eyes to open.

Potter's image slowly came into focus, and he turned to me, locking gazes with me for a moment before turning back to the nurse he was talking to.

"No idea," he answered.

"It's alright, Mister Potter," she answered, disappointment lingering in her voice. "I just wanted to know if anyone heard anything. Obviously Mister Malfoy can't answer me."

Potter chuckled halfheartedly and looked over at me again with guilt in his eyes.

"Now, you should go to see the Headmaster. I heard he was looking for you," the healer informed.

"Yes, ma'am," Potter agreed, adjusting his glasses. He glanced at me again before turning to leave.

The nurse turned to me, and I finally recognized her as Madame Pomphrey. Surprise coloured her features as she exclaimed, "Mister Malfoy! You're awake!" The shocked healer approached me and slipped her hands behind my back, helping me to sit up.

I allowed her to gently lift me from the hospital bed and then lean me back onto the pillows. I hissed as a bolt of sharp pain speared me through the chest. I fell onto the pillows and my hand flew to my heart, where it hurt the most.

Madame Pomphrey disappeared for a moment and came back with a glass of water, mixing something into it with a spoon. "Here," she breathed, setting the spoon down on the bedside table. "Drink this."

She pressed the cup to my before I could think and the cooling water slipped down my throat, soothing both my burning throat and the pain in my chest.

The nurse took the cup away, placing it on the table while I leaned back into the pillows again, overjoyed that the pain was easing.

Pomphrey pulled a nearby stool closer to her and took a seat as she asked, "Could you tell me what happened in the bathroom, Mister Malfoy?"

I remembered everything that happened, but I couldn't tell her. It didn't look like Harry knew what that spell did, and that guilt in his eyes a moment ago made it clear that he hadn't meant to hurt me.

"I don't know," I lied, my voice sounding weak and hoarse even to my own ears. "Some student threw a spell at me. There was a lot of pain, but nothing more."

"Do you remember the spell?" the healer inquired.

"Yeah, but I didn't know it," I answered. "Sectum-something."

What was that spell? I couldn't remember exactly what it was, but I had never heard of it before.

"I've never heard a spell beginning with that, either," Pomphrey added. "Well, no use dwelling on it, I suppose. How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Better now that I drank whatever you put in that water," I responded.

"Just a mild painkiller."

"Was that Potter who was just in here?" changing the topic as I raised my head a little. Focusing on the pain made it worse, so talking about something else might lessen it, and Potter was the first thing that came to mind.

"Yes, it was," the nurse answered, her tone lightening a little. "I didn't know you were awake for that."

"Just the end of the conversation," I assured her.

We fell silent for a moment, and I noticed how light it was in the room. I glanced up to the row of windows by the ceiling and found that the sunlight was strong enough to be midday or afternoon. When Potter and I fought, it was morning.

"How long have I been out?" I asked, facing Madame Pomphrey. It was at least a few hours, but it could also be longer than that. I pleaded that it wouldn't be.

"About two days," the healer cautiously answered.

The shock of learning that made my heart jump, but it quickly faded. I was all too used to finding out how long I've been unconscious.

"I should send word to your friends," the madame sighed, rising from the stool. "At least one of them came to visit you before and after every meal to see if you were awake. The only way I could get rid of them and let you rest is by promising to tell them when you woke up."

I tried to laugh, but all I could manage was an amused huff before my chest ached, making me wince.

"I would give you more of that painkiller, but it would make you sleep," Pomphrey offered.

"Nah, that's alright," I refused. "I think I've been asleep long enough."

The healer laughed lightly and walked off towards another nurse.

I leaned back against the pillows again and closed my heavy eyes. Why was I so exhausted? I had slept for two days straight, but I was still tired.

"Wake up, Malfoy," an amused voice laughed, shaking my arm.

I sat up a little and blinked away my exhaustion, looking at the people around me.

"We heard that you woke up, but we come back and find you asleep again," Blaise mocked, struggling to hide his laugh.

"It's good to see you, too, Blaise," I returned, giving him a smirk of my own.

"Are you alright?" Pansy demanded next to me.

"Yeah. What happened?" Crabbe interrogated.

"We were leaving for our first class when one of the professors told us you were in the infirmary," Goyle added.

"I don't know," I sighed, wanting to tell them as little as possible. The less they knew, the better. "Some student threw a weird spell at me in the bathroom. Then I woke up here. That's all I remember."

"Do you know which House he was in?" Blaise asked.

"No," I covered. "There's really not much light in that bathroom."

The group in front of me chuckled before Goyle wondered, "So how long you think you're staying in here?"

"No idea," I answered. "But I'm not too bad. Not even a bruise. Can't be for too long."

"That's where you're wrong, Mister Malfoy," Madame Pomphrey interrupted as she approached us. "You were hit with an unknown spell, and though you may seem fine, you might have internal problems, so you are going to stay here indefinitely until we can determine whether or not you're truly alright."

No. I couldn't stay here. I hadn't killed Dumbledore yet, and they could be coming to take the school any day now.

"No protesting, Malfoy," Pomphrey ordered, looking at me sternly. "You are going to stay here, no questions asked. And your parents have been informed of what's happened, and they fully expect you to stay here and heal."

I fell back down in disappointment. Now my parents know, and by default, so did everyone else. What would happen now?

"Are you alright, Malfoy?" Pansy wondered. "You look a little green."

"I'm fine!" I snapped. They had to leave. I had to talk with my father, and they couldn't be here for that.

Pansy backed away from my bed a few steps and a look of shock came over the others.

Realizing that I scared them, I apologized. "Sorry, guys," I whispered. "I'm just tired."

"Yes, he is," Madame Pomphrey agreed waving her arms towards the door. "You should all head to lunch and let Mister Malfoy rest."

My friends didn't protest and silently moved out the door.

"I shouldn't have yelled at them," I muttered after they had gone.

"It's alright, Mister Malfoy. You've been under a lot of stress lately," Madame Pomphrey dismissed.

I glanced at her as she passed my bed and whispered, "You have no idea."

A moment later Pomphrey returned with a bowl of green gelatin and a spoon. "Bon appetit, Mister Malfoy," she sighed.

I raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She couldn't be serious. I was starving, and I had to eat this?

Pomphrey chuckled at my look. "You better get used it, Mister Malfoy. You're going to get the same thing for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow."

I sighed and took the bowl from her.

 **Hope you guys enjoyed! I am definitely going to update next week, it's just a matter of a Thanksgiving Special, my usual Saturday update or both. We've got a ton of family stuff next week, so...I hope to do both, but don't plan on it. Fingers crossed!** ** **See you next week!** **


	16. Chapter 16

**Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! I managed to do a Thanksgiving special update! I doubt that I'll be able to update this Saturday, but I'll try to do it late at night tomorrow.**

 **Anyways. In this chapter, we pick up almost exactly where we left off. It's the morning after Draco wakes up after getting hit with the Sectumsempra curse from Harry Potter.**

 **Chapter Sixteen**

"An owl came for you, Mister Malfoy," Madame Pomphrey announced the next morning.

I looked up from the books and notes my friends brought me after dinner last night and found the healer extending the letter out to me. I thanked her and took the note.

My hand shook as I slowly broke the wax seal of my family crest on the letter. What would it say? It would surely reprimand me for getting injured and not being able to kill Dumbledore. What else could it be.

The letter wasn't encoded. It was exactly as it read. There wasn't any underlying message.

 _Draco,_

 _Are you alright? Madame Pomphrey wrote to us about what had happened and yesterday and that you were finally awake. If you are able to write to us, tell us what happened. Your mother and I were terrified when we had heard. We just need to hear what happened and how you're doing from your own mouth._

 _Father_

 _Draco,_

 _What really happened? Madame Pomphrey only told us that you were hit with an unknown spell in the lavatory._

 _But overall, what happened doesn't really matter. You are to put aside any work you have, and do as Madame Pomphrey instructs until you get better. No school work or extracurricular activities. Just rest._

 _I wish you the best, Draco. Please get better._

 _Mother_

They wanted to know if I was alright. That was it. Not even Father wanted to know anything else.

One of the other school nurses passed by. "Excuse me," I called, getting her to pause and look back at me. "You don't know if it's possible for me to write back, do you?" I wondered, gesturing to the letter.

The nurse debated for a moment before nodding. "I'll get you a pen, ink and some parchment," she told me before walking off. When she returned, she had a thin roll of parchment, an old quill and a small ink well that she placed on the bedside table.

I thanked her and received a nod in response. I closed my books as she took her leave, then grabbed each of the items she placed on the table. I placed one of the thicker textbooks on the bed covers in front of me, unrolled the parchment on top of the book and carefully dipped the quill into the ink.

The letter would require a bit of code if I wanted to tell them exactly what had happened. Otherwise the letter would be all over the Daily Prophet if the owl delivering it was intercepted.

 _Mother and Father,_

 _I'm doing better. I was unconscious for two days, but nothing bad has happened since. As for what really happened, well, it wasn't good._

 _I went to the Great Hall for breakfast, and I found Potter talking with the girl I had Cursed as a way to kill Dumbledore. She said that she couldn't remember who cursed her, but then she saw me and gave me an odd look, like she did remember me._

 _Before she could get any more suspicious, I left the Hall and went to the bathroom to wait until she had forgotten again. Little did I know that Potter had followed me. He made it clear that he suspected me of hexing her. He threw a stunning spell at me, and I returned it. The fight continued for several minutes until Potter rounded a corner and shouted a spell that I had never heard before._

 _When it had hit me, it felt like my skin was being shredded. I was bleeding from everywhere, and I thought I was going to die I started to black out after a while, but I think it was Snape that came. He kept repeating a different spell, but I had never heard of that one either._

 _I don't remember much after that._

 _Thank you for checking up on me._

 _Draco_

I looked up from the letter in time to see Madame Pomphrey walk by. I called to her and got her to come back towards my bed. "I'm sure I'm not allowed anywhere near the Owlery or hot wax, so could you send this to my parents for me?" I mocked, still smiling from the fact that my parents wanted to know how I was.

"Yes, I will, Mister Malfoy," Pomphrey agreed with a smile, taking the letter from me and walking off again.

Later in the day, I had fallen asleep again but was woken up by a hand gently shaking my shoulder. I groaned in annoyance. This was the best I had slept all year. Who in their right mind was waking me up?

I rolled over and sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I glanced to the bedside to find Potter standing next to me looking worried.

I gave him an incredulous look. What was he doing here?

"I'm just checking up on you, Malfoy," he told me, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," I spat. Just because I know Potter didn't mean to hurt me, doesn't mean that I want him here.

"I know you're angry with me, but I wanted to thank you for not turning me in," he said, taking a seat on the nearby stool.

"I don't think you meant to hurt me," I whispered. "Did you even know what spell you hit me with?"

"No," Potter breathed, looking thoughtful. "I found it in an old potions book."

"You know who owned it?" I questioned, faintly hoping that I could figure something out.

"Not really," he answered. "The inside cover said 'This book is property of the Half-Blood Prince'."

"Who on Earth is the Half-Blood Prince?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. "And how could he create a spell like that?"

"No idea."

We both fell into an uncomfortable silence for a while until it became a bit too uncomfortable for me. "So, if you didn't know who came up with the spell or what the spell was for, why did you use it on me?" I questioned.

I knew Potter greatly disliked me and that he suspected either me or my family of causing every bad thing that happened in the school, but Potter has a strong moral code. I didn't think his hatred for me was so great that he'd use an unknown and dangerous spell on me.

Potter hesitated, making my heart beat faster in anxiety. Maybe I judged him wrong.

He took a deep breath, as if preparing himself to answer and muttered, "I-it was labeled 'for enemies' in the book."

"'For enemies'," I clarified, receiving a nod in answer. "Because of that Bell girl?" Potter nodded again. I sighed and told him, "I didn't Curse her. I don't even know her."

"Then why'd you try to stun me when I questioned you about her? You tense up whenever I even mention her," Potter interrogated.

It was my turn to hesitate. I had no answer. I could tell him that I was simply on edge, but then he would ask what I was nervous about. I could come up with something for that, too, but he might continue to press me. Potter was infamous for asking questions about things he shouldn't.

"Shouldn't you be in class, Mister Potter?" a low voice slowly interjected, saving me from having to answer.

I looked over Potter's shoulder to find Snape gliding towards us. Potter followed my gaze and stood up from the stool once he realized who was here with us.

"Actually, sir, I was on my way to see Professor Dumbledore," Potter corrected.

"Then I suggest you go and do that," the professor quietly ordered, raising a stern eyebrow at Potter.

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed before walking out of the infirmary.

"Are you feeling better?" Snape asked once Harry was fully out of the door.

"Yes, fine," I answered.

I glanced down at my sheets as Madame Pomphrey's half-remembered words came to mind. " _What Professor Snape did saved his life."_

Taking a short breath I mutter a quick, "Thanks."

"I had to, Mister Malfoy," Snape responded. "I came to your aid to fulfill the Vow."

I nodded, knowing that he would have no other reason to come and see me.

 **Happy Thanksgiving! I hope you all have a save and wonderful holiday!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello, everybody! This chapter is the shortest chapter I have ever written of anything, so I guess it's good that I managed to update twice this week! Apologies for the shortness, but the next chapter is exciting and long. I promise.**

 **Chapter Seventeen**

The next morning, Pomphrey came to my bed, cheerily saying that my parents had responded to my letter, but I was nervous about what I would find beyond the wax seal. I was always nervous. I hoped that it would be like the one I received yesterday, but that wasn't likely.

I always thought of leaving the letters they sent me unopened and never finding out what they had to say, but I couldn't. They would have instructions, warnings and reminders that I had to pay heed to. I would miss something important pertaining to the Dark Lord or the other Death Eaters.

So I still opened the letters, always faintly hoping it would just be a letter from my parents that had no codes involved.

 _Draco,_

 _We're so glad to hear that you are doing better. We have both been worried sick._

 _We don't know what progress you've made with the Cabinet, but what you have done will have to be enough. They're coming tomorrow night. They will take the school. You need to kill Dumbledore by midnight tomorrow. I've said it to you before, but I will repeat it now: you will not like the consequences if you don't._

 _Father_

Tomorrow? How would they come tomorrow? The Cabinet was finished, yes, but I didn't know if it could transport human life.

And Dumbledore was still alive. The Dark Lord would kill me if I couldn't kill Dumbledore by tomorrow night. The only thing I had left to use was a Killing Curse. If Voldemort didn't kill me, that Curse might, especially since I was already weak from Potter's spell.

I had one day left to get back to full health, so that Curse wouldn't do me in. Just one day.

 **Hope you guys had a wonderful Thanksgiving and a wonderful weekend! Again, sorry it's so short, but the next chapter is 7 pages long in my Google Drive. Till next week!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello, everyone! Surprise! An early update! I'm going to be out of state visiting colleges with my father this weekend and will be without Internet that's adequa** **te enough to update, so...I decide to update early than to leave you guys hanging!**

 **I'm super excited for you guys to read this chapter. Personally, I think it's the best out of the 30+ chapters I have written for this fanficiton...**

 **So. Last we left Draco, Harry Potter shot him with the Sectumsempra curse and was recovering in the hospital wing. He received a letter from his father that said the Death Eaters were coming to take Hogwarts the next day.**

 **Chapter Eighteen**

I tried my best to sleep the day away so I could get stronger, but I couldn't. I tossed and turned for hours, but I never slept. I tried to eat the food Pomphrey gave me, but my hand was shaking so much that I couldn't even hold the utensil.

I laid awake the whole day, my heart pounding with nervous anticipation, but when it reached eleven thirty at night, my time was up. They would be here in a half hour. I had to kill him.

"Goodnight, Mister Malfoy," Madame Pomphrey sighed quietly as she passed by.

I didn't answer, but I watched her as she retreated into another room. Once her door was closed, I rose from my bed and crossed the hospital room to the wardrobe where they told me my clothes and wand were stored. I changed as quickly as my trembling hand would allow and grabbed my wand.

Thunder rumbled outside as I left the infirmary. I forced myself to walk slowly so no one would suspect me of anything, but I still scoffed when the babbling of a group of students reached my ears.

They were laughing and making jokes, hitting each other playfully on the shoulder. They had no idea what was about to happen, but how could they be so happy? There was no doubt in my mind that they knew what was happening in the Wizarding World, but they were still laughing

"Go to your Houses. No dawdling," Mcgonagall called through the courtyard, making me jump.

I glanced in the direction of her voice, but the professor was already going back into the school.

I was glad for her warning. The other students didn't need to be around for this.

Nerves danced in my stomach as I reached the Room of the Requirement. I called up the part of the Room that the Cabinet was in, pleading that, this time, it wouldn't work, but of course it did. It opened exactly as it had all year.

I ran to the Cabinet and ripped off the covering. I took a few steps back and waited. I hoped that they wouldn't come, but what reason did they have not to?

The handle to the Cabinet doors started to click and turn as an unnatural wind blew through the Room, making me shiver with cold. The Cabinet doors creaked open and a black mist poured out. They were here, and they would kill me if I didn't leave.

I had to kill him now.

My panic was too great for me to control now. I ran through the corridors until I arrived at the steps to the Astronomy Tower. Every professor talks of the dangerous and terrible consequences of Dark Spells, and they are dangerous, but what no one speaks of their advantages. Over the few years of training I noticed that I could feel when a spell is cast in the school. It took me a while to realise that was what that feeling was, but once I did, I focused on it more, and with a bit of practice, I was able to identify which kind of spells were cast-charm, hex, transfiguration, even Apparition.

Someone just Apparated to the Astronomy Tower. No one could Apparate inside of Hogwarts unless you were either in training in the Great Hall, or Dumbledore.

I took a deep breath as I opened the door, straining to keep my nervous emotions inside of me. My hand had to stop shaking. I wouldn't be able to kill him if it didn't.

"Whatever happens, it is imperative that you stay below," Dumbledore muttered. He whispered something else, but his voice was too distant for for to understand what he said.

The door slammed closed behind me as Dumbledore told someone to trust him. A set of footsteps rapidly drew closer as I approached the main staircase and began to climb it.

I suppose I still have another option.

" _I might just pitch myself off of the Astronomy Tower if I thought I had to continue for another two years."_

But I couldn't. I still had my family. My family or myself?

I choose them. I always will choose them.

I took a deep breath as I drew my wand to try and calm myself, but it was futile.

I has about to kill a man.

I aimed my wand through the globe-shaped, metal sculptures, struggling to keep it steady as I trained it on Dumbledore.

I climbed the last step and tried to harden my expression. He would try to convince me not to kill him, so I couldn't show fear or doubt. Not even to myself.

"Good evening, Draco," the bearded man greeted. "What brings you here this fine spring evening?"

"Who else is here," I snapped. "I heard you talking." No one else could be here. They said no witnesses. I would have to kill someone else if another person was here.

"I often talk aloud to myself. I find it extraordinarily useful. Have you been whispering to yourself, Draco?" Dumbledore asked quietly as I rounded the sculptures to get a clearer shot.

I never had anyone to talk to. I had to talk to someone, but no one was ever there. Not my parents, not my friends. I talked to myself because no one else was there, but how could he know?

"Draco..." Dumbledore slowly began, looking at me with pity. He was speaking cautiously, like he was afraid to say the wrong thing. "...you are no assassin."

"How do you know what I am?" I interrupted, my fear rising in me again. He was stalling. I just wanted to get this over with. "I've done things that would shock you."

"Like Cursing Katie Bell and hoping that in return that she'd bare a cursed necklace to me?" he questioned. "Replacing a bottle of mead with one laced with poison?"

He knew? The whole time, he knew? I was so surprised that I almost dropped my wand, but I quickly tightened my grip on it again.

"Forgive me, Draco, but I cannot help feeling these actions are so weak that your heart can't really have been in them," Dumbledore whispered as I finally rounded the globe sculpture.

The tremor in my hand grew worse the longer he talked about my failures. I clenched the end of my wand so hard that my entire hand began to tingle. He had to stop.

"He trusts me!" I shouted, silencing the man. "I was chosen!"

I lowered my wand and yanked up my left sleeve, revealing the fully formed Dark Mark. I glanced back up at him to see if he looked afraid like the shopkeeper at Borgin and Burkes, to see if he was looking at me like the monster I really am.

But he wasn't. Dumbledore looked disappointed. Sad. Concerned for me.

Why? What did he have to be sad about? Not me. He should be afraid _of_ me, not afraid _for_ me. I was sent to kill him.

I pulled my sleeve back down and raised my wand again as Dumbledore pulled out his own.

"Then, I shall make it easy for you," he sighed.

"Expelliarmus!" I shouted, my voice cracking slightly in my fear.

This was it. Dumbledore's wand was thrown several meters away from him. He was unarmed. I had to do it.

"Very good. Very good," the Headmaster congratulated, the shaking in my hand growing worse by the second.

The entrance to the Tower clicked open and slammed shut as I doubled my grip on my wand handle.

They were here. I was out of time.

"You're not alone," Dumbledore commented, a hint of surprise in his words. "There are others. How?"

He took a step towards me, and I almost took two steps back, but I held my ground. I didn't want him any closer. I didn't want to see the light fade from his eyes, but stepping back would show my fear. Not only would I be backing away, but I might back out.

"The Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement," I explained. Now I was stalling. I had to kill him, but I couldn't do it. I was out of time, but I found myself spending my last few seconds chatting instead of doing what I was supposed to. "I've been mending it."

"Let me guess," Dumbledore offered. "It It has a sister. A twin."

"In Borgin and Burkes. They form a passage," I answered, my tremor lessening the more I distracted myself.

"Ingenious," my target commented. "Draco, years ago I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices. Please let me help you."

"I don't want your help! Don't you understand?" I shouted, my heart hammering against my ribs. He can't help me. No one can. "I have to do this." My tremor grew so intense that I could barely hold my aim. "I have to kill you." My eyes prickled as tears formed. I blinked them back, but it didn't stop my heart from clenching with guilt and fear. "Or he's gonna kill me."

A group of rapid footsteps echoed through the Tower, and I glanced through the hollow sculpture to the staircase as my aunt Bellatrix appeared on the top step.

My heart rate skyrocketed, and I gripped my wand even harder, staring back at Dumbledore. This was my last chance.

"Well, look what we have here," Bellatrix voiced, moving into the room and revealing Greyback and the two other masked Death Eaters that came with her.

The group rounded the sculptures and moved over to me. Bellatrix leaned towards me and put her cold lips to my ear. "Well done, Draco," she whispered as she gently kissed my ear, making my skin crawl.

My aunt backed away as Dumbledore pleasantly greeted her like nothing was wrong. "Good evening, Bellatrix. I think introductions are in order, don't you?"

"Love to, Albus, but I'm afraid we're all on a bit of a tight schedule," the black-haired Death Eater rejected. She turned to me and hissed, "Do it."

I glanced at her commanding expression and then back at Dumbledore's calm and accepting one. I tried to keep my keep my wand up, but I couldn't. It automatically lowered, my premature guilt overcoming my resolve.

"He doesn't have the stomach. Just like his father," Greyback commented behind me.

What did he mean "like my father"? My father was strong enough. He could do this, but Greyback was right. I didn't have the stomach for it, but I had no choice.

I forced my wand back up as Greyback hrsshly finished, "Let me finish him my own way."

"No!" Bellatrix yelled in a breathy tone. "The Dark Lord was clear. The boy has to do it." She turned to me with what could be considered an encouraging expression. "This is your moment. Do it."

My moment. I mentally scoffed. This is one heck of a moment. If killing Dumbledore is the only thing I will be remembered for, I really am a monster.

"Go on, Draco! Now!" Bellatrix shouted when I still hadn't cast the Curse.

I couldn't do it. I tried and tried to force the words past my lips, but they wouldn't leave me. I couldn't kill a man, especially a man that has done nothing to me.

I was going to die. My family was going to die.

"No," a recognisable voice uttered behind me.

I instantly lowered my wand and found Snape approaching us.

Part of me was grateful, but the other part of me was terrified. The Dark Lord specifically said that _I_ was to kill Dumbledore. Snape might spare me of killing, but choosing that would condemn both myself and my family.

"Severus," Dumbledore pleaded. I glanced at him and found that his expression matched his tone. He was sad and pleading, but he wasn't afraid.

A tense silence fell on all of us. Snape stared at Dumbledore, and Dumbledore stared at Snape. Bellatrix glared at the black-haired professor with hatred, and I couldn't take my eyes off of Dumbledore.

Why wasn't he afraid?

"Please," Dumbledore muttered.

After a second more, Snape voiced the worst spell in existence. "Avada Kedavra."

With a flash of dreaded green light, Dumbledore's body went limp and was thrown from the Tower. He seemed to fall in slow motion.

Dumbledore was dead. I killed him. I didn't cast the Curse, but I might as well have.

Snape grabbed my shoulder and shoved me towards the Tower staircase as Bellatrix bounced towards the railing of the Tower balcony, shouting at the top of her lungs and throwing a spell into the air, forming the Dark Mark out of the black clouds.

Snape went ahead of me as we descended the stairs. I struggled to keep up with the group when we reached the halls.

I couldn't get the image of Dumbledore falling out of my mind. It replayed over and over again.

Bellatrix ran into the Great Hall and mounted one of the long tables. She cackled manically as she kicked and blasted dishes and goblets off of the tabletop.

Snape stunned one of the members of staff, throwing him out of the way as my aunt's crazed laughter grew louder. I froze near the doors of the Great Hall, unable to keep going.

Bellatrix yelled in celebration, making me jump and turn to her. She raised her wand and turned the glass in every window into shards, the wind from her spell blowing out all of the floating candles.

What did I do?

This was my fault.

The school was destroyed. Dumbledore is dead.

It was my fault.

"Come on, Draco!" Bellatrix shouted as she excitedly hopped down from the table.

She snagged my wrist as she passed, towing me after the rest of the group. I stumbled after them, my sight becoming blurred.

Once my aunt released me and ran ahead of us, I brought my hands to my eyes and wiped away the tears before they could leak down my face.

Snape glanced at me out of the corner of his eye but said nothing.

Our walk eventually took us to the Forbidden Forest as Bellatrix danced wildly through the trees, cackling the whole way. I had no idea where she was leading us until we reached the end of the treeline, revealing Hagrid's hut and his enormous garden.

"Hagrid! Hello?" Bellatrix called, singing each word.

"Snape! He trusted you!" a voice bellowed.

I gladly turned away from my aunt's insane celebration to find Potter charging at us with his wand drawn.

An explosion sounded behind me, and I flipped back around, seeing Bellatrix, squealing with a sickening delight as she set Hagrid's hut aflame, its burning heat instantly drying any remaining tears.

"Go on," Snape calmly ordered me.

I turned to him to be sure I was okay to go somewhere else, and he nodded.

I instantly ran away from the burning fire and moved as fast as I could back to the castle. Dumbledore fell from the Astronomy Tower, so his...body...would have landed in the front courtyard.

The Dark Mark shrieked overhead, and I glanced up at it. The skull seemed as if it could swoop down and swallow me whole. I wished it would. That way I wouldn't have to live with this guilt any longer.

Voldemort was probably going to kill me because I couldn't kill Dumbledore, but what would he do to my parents? I had to protect them as best I could until he killed me.

Finally arriving to the courtyard, I discovered a massive gathering of most of the students and professors in the school. I clung to the shadows on the edge of the courtyard and moved around the crowd. Just as I had thought, Dumbledore was here. He laid on his back in front of the crowd, one of his hands resting over his torso.

I could see his age. I always knew Dumbledore was old, but he never seemed feeble. As his body rested lifelessly on the ground, I could actually see the fact that he was at least a hundred years old.

After a moment, the crowd of students split and created a pathway that Harry silently moved through. Once he reached Dumbledore's body, he kneeled down next to him and sniffed. He moved strands of Dumbledore's hair out of his face and placed a hand on his unmoving chest. Weasley's sister knelt down next to Potter and drew him into her arms, holding him as his grieving became audible.

The already heavy atmosphere grew ten times more weighted with Potter's tears, making some of my own well up and fall down my cheeks.

The Dark Mark cried above us again, and I looked back up at it, noticing that a bit of light had penetrated the black clouds.

I glanced towards the gathering of students and saw Professor McGonagall standing with tears in her eyes and her wand raised and pointed towards the sky, the tip of it glowing with a small amount of white light.

Slowly, one by one, the other students and professors raised their own wands and made them glow. Even Hagrid raised his umbrella.

I knew I shouldn't have done it, but I had to.

I drew my own wand, the wand that would have killed him, and raised it towards the sky, forcing the smallest amount light past the darkness that had infected both my wand and myself.

I looked up at the Dark Mark as cried out in pain and grew consumed with white light. The light from all of us pushed back against the dark clouds and made the Mark vanish from the sky.

I lowered my wand with the rest of the gathering and glanced back down at Dumbledore's frail body.

"Draco," a low voice whispered.

I turned around to find Snape standing in the grass outside of the courtyard.

"Let's go," he quietly commanded.

I sighed and wiped my cheeks off with my sleeve and walked away.

 **Okay. I'll admit it. I made myself cry while writing this chapter. Anyone else cry? Why do we do these things to ourselves?!**

 **On a happier note, I hope you enjoyed, and I'm looking forward to updating again. Till next week!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey, everybody! Time for another chapter! We pick up exactly where we left off. Dumbledore was finally killed, and Draco can't help but think that he killed him.**

 **Disclaimer in two parts. One: I own nothing, and there is no copyright infringement intended. Two: I edited this when I was sick, so the quality might not be what you're used to. Sorry! But I hope you enjoy anyways!**

 **Chapter Nineteen**

Snape and the other Death Eaters Apparated me home, and my mother quickly embraced me. She let me go after a moment looked me in the eye, seeming to scan me for something. "Are you alright, Draco?" she asked.

"Of course he's not!" Bellatrix answered for me. "He knows he's disappointed our Dark Lord."

"Disappointed how?" Mother inquired, her voice lingering between high-pitched concern and a lowered seriousness.

"He didn't kill Dumbledore," my aunt answered.

Mother glanced between me and Bellatrix before commanding me to my room. I didn't fight her and willingly retreated. I didn't have any fight left in me.

I shrugged off my suit jacket as the picture of Dumbledore falling from the Tower replayed itself in my mind again.

I jumped at the mental image and dropped my blaiser. The memory was terrible, and I was on the verge of Obliviating myself to get rid of it, but I couldn't. Undoubtedly, You-Know-Who will want a report on everything. He'll learn that I didn't kill him, and then he'll kill me.

I should be scared, but I'm not. I'm not scared of dying. I felt practically nothing at all.

But my hand was shaking so hard that I couldn't undo my tie.

A loud knock sounded at my door, and my father entered a second later. "Did you do it?" he demanded.

He looked terrible. He looked as sick as I was. He had black spots under his eyes and he was paler than I had ever seen him. He looked panicked and worried.

"No," I answered, dread carving a hole in my chest.

"What do you mean 'no'?" he almost shouted.

"I-I couldn't do it," I stuttered, fearing his reaction.

Father took a deep breath and shook his head. "I told you that you had to do it before they came," he reminded. "Is he dead at least?"

"Yes," I slowly answered, the moment in the Tower playing in my mind again. "Snape killed him."

Neither of us spoke for a time, but that didn't stop me from wondering if he would he kill me? My family? Make me kill them as punishment?

Before I could ask my father, my wrist that held the Dark Mark burned like fire. I hissed and grabbed my wrist, shutting my eyes against the pain.

I glanced up at my father and found him staring at his own Dark Mark. The Mark was twisting and convulsing on his skin.

"Is that normal?" I asked, straining to keep my fear out of my voice, but even I could still hear the emotion resonating in my words.

Father looked at me with pity and answered, "Yes. I know it's painful, but it means we're being summoned. The Dark Lord wants to talk to all of his Death Eaters, and that includes you. Come on."

Father grabbed my trembling hand and towed me out of my room. "How do you know where to go?" I asked, unsuccessfully trying to take my mind off of Dumbledore.

"The more it happens, the better you'll be able to know. A picture forms in your mind, and it'll get clearer over time," he hurriedly explained as he forced me to a stop outside of the closed doors to our dining room. "Now, be quiet. The Dark Lord is just behind this door," he warned, burning worry in his eyes as his voice dropped to a whisper. "You failed to fulfill his wishes, so only spoke when specifically asked to, and he's going to do any number of things to you to have you make up for your failure."

"Like what?" I muttered, images of death and torture filling my mind.

"I don't know. But there's no way to prepare for it."

I didn't respond, but I drew in several shaking breaths to try to calm myself, but it didn't work.

"Draco…" Father began, getting me to look back up at him.

He froze. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't get the words out. Eventually, he shook his head and opened the door.

Behind it, every Death Eater was assembled. Bellatrix, Greyback, Snape, even Crabbe and Goyle's fathers were present.

And in the center of them all was the Dark Lord with his dangerously thick snake coiled near his ankles, looking ready to strike. His hand griped the bone-like handle of his wand as he stared at me with intense disgust. He glanced at my father and cocked his head to the side.

Father nodded and joined my mother and the walls of other Death Eaters, leaving me alone.

"Draco," the Dark Lord called in his breathy voice. I looked up at him, but avoided making direct eye contact. "You failed to kill Dumbledore. Why?"

I swallowed back the lump in my throat before mumbling, "I was afraid to."

"And why were you afraid?" Voldemort demanded as his snake hissed threateningly.

"I've never killed anyone," I quietly answered, my heart jumping at the sound of Nagini's hiss.

"A lot of people have done things for me that they have never done before. So why should the fact that you have never killed anyone before stop you from obeying my order?"

I didn't say anything. How could I? I couldn't say that I felt guilty about killing Dumbledore before I had even raised my wand. Feelings like guilt and regret were rejected by the Death Eaters and Voldemort. They were weakness. I would be considered weak, and I had no idea what they would make me do to "toughen me up".

"Crucio!" the Dark Lord shouted.

Searing pain speared me in the chest and threw me to the floor. A scream tore itself from my throat as I hit the ground. My body convulsed of its own accord, trying to escape the burning poison coursing through my veins.

"Stop this!" someone shouted. "He's just a boy! He couldn't be expected to kill someone!"

The blinding pain abruptly ended, leaving me breathless. I laid on the floor as I struggled to get my lungs to work again.

"Was it not you who suggested him to do so, Lucius?" the wheezing voice of Voldemort inquired.

"I recommended him to repair the Cabinet and allow the other Death Eaters through," my father's voice forcefully countered. "Not to kill someone. You were the one who wanted Draco to kill Dumbledore."

I finally managed to get my eyes to open during a moment of tense silence. I forced my head to turn in the direction of my father's voice and discovered him standing near the Dark Lord with a mixture of fear and defiance in his expression.

"Are you suggesting that I made a mistake, Lucius?" Voldemort questioned, a threat ringing in his voice as he turned to face my father with a challenge in his slitted eyes.

You-Know-Who's thick snake bared its teeth and hissed loudly as the Death Eaters surrounding Father and the Dark Lord backed away several steps, creating a ring around them. Even Snape backed away.

Father glanced around at the retreating Death Eaters before quietly stuttering, "N-no, my lord. I-I am only saying that…" He trailed off.

"That what?" Voldemort demanded.

My father's breathing grew visibly shaky as he stole a glance at me. He looked afraid. More afraid than I had ever seen him.

I tried to force myself up to at least be able to support my weight on my elbows and look more encouraging for him, but all I succeeded in doing was making more pain burn through my torso. I hissed and fell back to the ground, the snickering of several Death Eaters reaching my ears.

I looked towards my father, and he locked eyes with me for moment. I didn't know what my expression communicated, but he looked sadly at me and turned back to Voldemort.

"Perhaps I was the one who made the mistake," he hesitantly muttered.

"Are you saying that you have no faith in your son, Lucius?" Voldemort pressed.

Father took an uncertain step back. "N-n-no. I-I-"

"Perhaps I can help you rectify your mistake," Voldemort offered before raising his whitened wand and waving it in my direction, throwing my father to the floor near me.

Father turned his head and looked at me, a mixture of fear and regret in his eyes. He opened his mouth and hesitantly whispered, "Draco." He was so quiet that I almost couldn't hear him. "I'm so-"

"Crucio!"

My father and I both screamed as that same red hot pain raced through my body. My mind drifted back to that spell Potter cast in the bathroom a week ago. The Torture Curse was all too similar to Potter's spell-which nearly killed me. Maybe Voldemort was trying to kill me.

Something inside of me slipped, and the pain slowly dulled. I pleaded that my consciousness would fade soon.

I thought I had gotten my wish when the influence of the Cruciatus Curse abruptly ended, but I was proven wrong when my rushing breath burned my raw throat.

"Get them out of my sight," Voldemort hissed.

Several hands soon lifted me from the floor, the sudden movement making more pain burst inside of me. I was so dazed and exhausted that I couldn't open my eyes. The echoing slapps of shoes on the hard floors was the only indication that I was being moved.

After a few minutes, a door was kicked open and a Death Eater shouted, "Get in there, Malfoy!"

The hands that carried me pushed on my back, and I was thrown through the air. I painfully impacted the ground a moment later, the air instantly leaving my lungs. The door was slammed shut, and I was left alone on the floor, gasping for breath and holding my side.

I laid on the floor, trying to get my head to clear, and after a while, I finally managing to get my eyes open and found myself in my room. I forced my unsteady legs to stand and stumble over to the door. I tried the handle.

It was locked.

I was locked in my room with no idea what was to come. Someone will probably torture me again. They had to. According to them, I needed to be punished because I failed to kill Dumbledore.

I wandered to my bed and fell down onto it as the events in the Tower played again in my mind.

Why did Snape kill him? He knew just as well as I did that Voldemort demanded that I should have.

I suppose I should be grateful. If it wasn't for Snape, I would have killed a man. I have no idea what it feels like to kill, and I wasn't anxious to learn.

But now I was subject to torture and who knows what else.

 **Cliff-hanger, I know, I know. You'll find everything out next week...**


	20. Chapter 20

**It's exactly midnight as I post this chapter. Sorry for the lateness, but I hope the Chapter makes up for it!**

 **Bu the way, I'm just gonna go ahead and remind everyone of the father-son abuse in this fanfiction. It comes into play in this chapter, and I really don't want this to hit too close to home for anybody. If you decide to continue reading, I thank you for your views.**

 **Copyright: I own nothing, and no infringement is intended. But there is a House Elf OC in this chapter that was in a chapter way close to the beginning. However, I do not own the concept of House Elves.**

 **Chapter Twenty**

About three days later, the door to my room was finally unlocked. "You're free to roam about the house, Malfoy Junior," an unfamiliar Death Eater announced. "Just don't leave the estate." The Death Eater turned on his heel and marched away.

Eventually, I was able to push myself into a sitting position on my bed, my stomach sending waves of dull pain throughout my torso. The only thing I was able to put into my body these past three days was water. No one came with food, one of the Death Eaters stole my wand when they threw me in here, preventing me from Apparating out. The lack of food made me hurt and shake and left me exhausted. I had to get some food, but I didn't know if I had the energy to.

I forced myself up and stumbled out of my room, using the wall for support. I finally got to the kitchen and found a few of our House Elves conversing, though they froze and turned away when I entered the room.

"Hello, young Master Malfoy," a small voice greeted. I glanced down and discovered Loft awkwardly holding his own hands and staring up at me. "What can Loft do for you, sir?"

"Just need some food," I answered.

"What would you-"

"I don't care what it is. Just make it fast. I'm starving," I interrupted. Loft gave a small nod and walked off to do as I asked when another pang from my stomach forced me to take up a chair at the nearby kitchen table.

I sat in silence for the few minutes it took for Loft to make the food and return to me. "Sir," the Elf called, holding a plate with a tall sandwich on it out to me in offering. I quickly took it from him and scarfed it down, my screaming hunger making me forget to be cautious about eating too fast.

"What?" I demanded through a full mouth, noticing that the House Elf was still at my side.

"May Loft ask if you are alright, sir?"

"I'm fine," I spat. "Why do you ask?"

"Loft heard you return from school three days ago and has not seen you since. Loft was wondering if you are alright because he heard you screaming," the House Elf answered, fixing his gaze on the ground.

I swallowed the last bite of the sandwich. "I'm fine. I just did something wrong."

"What did you do wrong, sir?" Loft asked glancing up at me.

"Nothing you should be concerned about!" I snapped. I wasn't afraid that Loft would reveal what I would say to anybody. He's a House Elf. They're programmed not to tell anyone anything if ordered to, but I couldn't talk about it. Not yet.

I thrust the crumb-covered plate towards Loft and ordered, "Go put this away."

"Y-yes, sir," the Elf stuttered before carefully taking the plate away from the table and silently walking away.

My hand twitched of its own accord, and I glanced down to find my right hand shaking worse than it ever had before. I didn't try to stop it this time. If they saw my hand shake, they would probably torture me again. If they tortured me enough, I would end up like Longbottom's parents, but that would be better than being forced to kill and torture others for them.

"Draco," a soft voice called. I looked up from my shaking hand and found my father standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a bronze-coloured drink in his hand and a few days' worth of scruff on his jaw. "Glad to see that they finally let you out."

"They let you out before me," I commented as Father approached the table and took a chair across from me.

"They didn't lock me up at all," he corrected, taking a sip of his drink. "Just you. You were the one that failed. Not me."

I tensed at his words and withdrew my trembling hand from the table, placing it in my lap.

My father took another sip of his drink, finishing the glass and placed it on the table. "Why is your hand shaking?" he slurred, pointing at me.

"I don't know," I answered. "It started the beginning of this year."

A scream came from below us, making me jump and glance towards the floor. It was a man's voice, but what was he doing in the old wine cellar?

"Who's in the cellar?" I asked, looking back up at Father.

Father seemed to freeze and nervously glanced down at the floor. "No one."

The same voice screamed again, but it was louder this time.

"Someone is," I pressed. "Who's in the cellar?"

Snape appeared in the doorway, a small amount of blood spattered across the hem of his robe. "Young Mister Malfoy," he slowly called, "get your House Elves to make some food and take it to the cellar. Quickly." He walked briskly away.

I looked to the Elves, who were pretending to be busy, and ordered, "One of you make a sandwich or something. As fast as you can."

As the Elves got busy, I turned back to my father. "Thought you said that there was no one in the cellar."

"I didn't know that they wanted you to bring him food," he answered forcefully, looking at me sternly.

"Who's down there?" I asked.

"Ollivander."

"From the wand shop?" I received a confirming nod.

"Your food, sir," a high voice said at my elbow.

Not bothering to see which Elf gave me the food, I grabbed the plate from her and left the kitchen, leaving my father with a disappointed scoff.

How could he not tell me?

I knew how being a Death Eater worked. There were certain levels of confidence that you had to be in to learn certain things, but I still thought that my father would tell me if there was someone being...stored in our cellar.

It didn't take long for me to reach the steps that lead to barred cellar door. At the base of those stairs, I discovered Wormtail guarding the door, gripping his wand hard with his silver hand.

"Now you're a serving boy?" he mocked as I descended. I didn't answer. "Can't believe you didn't kill him," Wormtail muttered as he unlocked the door.

I ignored him as I entered, glancing around the cellar-turned-cell for the prisoner. "Mister Ollivander?"

"Mister Malfoy?" a cracking voice wondered.

"Yes," I answered, squinting in the low light as I searched. "I've brought you some food. Where are you?"

"Back here."

I unsurely followed his voice and eventually found Ollivander curled up in a corner, various bruises and cuts littering his face and a mixture of old and fresh blood dying his clothes. I quickly walked up to him and put the plate on the floor in front of him.

"Are you with them?" Ollivander asked before I could turn to leave.

"Yes," I sighed. "But I didn't know they had you down here."

The older man opened his mouth to say something else, but I quickly turned and left the cellar.

"Should have killed Dumbledore, you rat," Wormtail hissed as he locked the door behind me. "Would have made things a lot easier for you."

"You're one to call me rat," I returned, brushing off his comment.

The tip of Wormtail's wand jabbed itself into my neck, making me wince in pain and freeze.

"Now, you listen here, Malfoy-"

"Wormtail!" a man shouted from the top of the stairs. We both looked up and found my father standing at the top stair with a refilled drink in hand. "Let him go," he ordered.

Wormtail grumbled quietly in protest and tore his wand away from my throat before roughly shoving me towards the stairs.

I straightened my wrinkled suit and climbed up towards my father. "I came to give you this," he spat, slapping my wand into my chest.

I grunted in surprise and took my wand from him. Father turned his back to me and walked away, taking another sip of his drink.

"Why is he down there?" I questioned, pocketing my wand.

My father paused and looked back to me, spilling a few drops of his drink. "What?"

I let out an exasperated breath and walked a few steps closer to him. "Why is Ollivander in the cellar?"

"The Dark Lord needs him."

"For?"

Father narrowed his eyes a little at me and reminded, "You will not question the Dark Lord's needs."

"I'm not questioning him. I'm questioning you," I retorted.

"And why would you question me?" He tapped one of his rings on the metal snake head of his walking stick.

I swallowed a lump that suddenly formed in my throat. "I-I was just wondering."

"Oh. So you _are_ questioning me."

He took a step towards me, and I took a step back, suddenly uncomfortable with having my father any closer.

"Don't walk away from me," he spat, reaching out and taking hold of my collar and pulling me closer to him as his walking stick clattered to the floor.

I wrinkled my nose at the stench of alcohol radiating from his clothes and breath. "Father," I gently spoke, cautiously reaching up and grasping his wrist, "you're drunk, and you need to let go of me."

My father would drink from time to time, but as far as I knew, he never drank so much that it would make him do this.

"Don't talk back to me," he hissed sternly, quickly moving his hand from my collar to my throat.

I tensed and removed my hand from his wrist as he grasped my neck. His grip was firm, but it wasn't painful. I took several deep breaths to try to calm my thudding heart, but it was of no use. I had no idea what my father would do. He could choke me or let me go. I pleaded that he would let me go, but the anger in his eyes and his hardened expression said that he would probably choke me.

I swallowed down my nerves, carefully placed my hand on top of his and quietly and slowly voiced, "Father, you need to let me go. You're-"

"I know I'm drunk!" he shouted, making me wince at his volume as he gripped my throat tighter. "The only reason I am this way is because of you!"

I gasped and instinctively gripped his wrist as his hand tightened even more around my neck. I forced myself to calm down and loosen my grip on his wrist. I didn't want to fight my father. He was better at magic than I was and physically stronger than me. He would win against me-even drunk-and he was still my father. He wouldn't do this normally. This would never happen again. He just had to get sober, and this entire problem will be resolved. I had to talk my way out of his grip. If I could convince him to let me go, neither of us would get hurt. Emotionally or physically.

"What did I do to make you like this?" I strained, his grip restricting my ability to breath.

"You didn't kill Dumbledore." His grip tightened even more, almost entirely cutting off my air. "If you had, we would be in the Dark Lord's good graces. And when we win this Second Wizarding War, we would be praised as heroes. But you were weak."

I gasped for air in and attempt to apologize and get him to let go of me. "I-I'm s-s-"

"Don't speak, now!" my father shouted doubling his grip on my throat.

I groaned and was unable to stop myself from grasping my father's wrist this time. Both of my hands flew to his wrist and instinctively tried to pry my father's hand off of my throat, but it only made him grip me tighter.

"This is your fault," he hissed. "Everything that happened three days ago, and everything that will happen now is and will be your fault."

My legs began to shake from the lack of air as I clawed at his hand. He had to let go of me. Dark spots were already filling my vision, and I didn't know if he would let go after I passed out. His expression held nothing but drunken fury. There was no trace of the father who got tortured with me a few days ago.

My knees finally gave out, and I fell to the ground. Father held lowered his hand to keep his grip on my neck in tact. I would have fallen to the floor entirely, but my father's hand wrapped around my throat kept me upright.

"F-f-father," I gasped, trying to use my expression more than my words to plead with him, "p-please."

He scoffed sardonically and smirked at me heartlessly. "You're pleading now? No wonder you couldn't kill him."

My vision had almost entirely disappeared as I gripped his wrist as hard as I could, pushing against him.

Without warning, my father used his grip on my throat to shove me to the floor. I instantly gasped as my head slammed into the floorboards. I didn't move from the spot where I fell as I desperately fought for air. Occasionally, a cough would worm its way through my damaged throat which only made my windpipe burn even more.

"Get off the floor, Malfoy," Wormtail's voice ordered.

I glanced over to find him leaning against the top stair, a barely concealed smirk on his face. It was obvious that he had watched the whole event and was clearly entertained by it, but he was still right. If another Death Eater caught me on the floor in pain, they would undoubtedly take advantage of my vulnerable position.

I managed to roll onto my side so I could push myself to my feet. I glanced around and found that my father had gone, and he took his drink and walking stick with him. I was relieved to see him go. I didn't want to see him again until he was sober.

I winced at each breath as I found my way to my room, each intake of air raking across my throat. I gently rubbed the skin of my neck to try to soothe it, but nothing worked.

I finally made it through the door to my room, and I closed the door behind me. I thought that after being locked up in here for three days would make me never want to see my room again, but now, it was the only place I had left to go. I had no idea where my mother was, and I didn't want to see my father or any of the other Death Eaters. I just wanted to be alone.

I moved to my private bathroom and grabbed the cup that rested on the sink. I filled it up halfway with water and took a cautious sip of it. I winced, the water burning like fire as I swallowed.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and noticed how terrible I looked. The dark circles under my eyes had worsened, and my cheekbones and jawline protruded out of my skin so much that they looked ready to tear through, but the worst part was my neck.

A reddened, hand-shaped mark had formed on my skin, wrapping its way around my throat. The imprint of my father's hand.

He didn't mean to do it. He couldn't have. He was just drunk. He'll be sober by tomorrow.

I took the water cup and went back to the main part of my room. I placed the cup on my bedside table and fell into bed, wincing as another breath burned my throat, and it didn't take long for me to fall asleep.

* * *

 _The group rounded the sculptures and moved to me. Bellatrix leaned towards me and put her cold lips to my ear. "Well done, Draco," she whispered as she gently kissed my ear, making my skin crawl._

 _Normally, I would flinch at her uncomfortable display of affection, but I had nowhere to go if I did._

 _My aunt backed away from me as Dumbledore pleasantly greeted her like nothing was wrong. "Good evening, Bellatrix. I think introductions are in order, don't you?"_

" _Love to, Albus, but I'm afraid we're all on a bit of a tight schedule," the black-haired Death Eater rejected. She turned to me and hissed, "Do it."_

 _I glanced at her commanding expression and then back at Dumbledore's calm and accepting one. I tried to keep my keep my wand up, but I couldn't. It automatically lowered, my guilt overcoming my resolve._

" _He doesn't have the stomach. Just like his father," Greyback commented behind me._

 _What did he mean "like my father"? My father was strong enough. He could do this, but Greyback was right. I didn't have the stomach for it, but I didn't have a choice either._

 _I forced my wand back up as Greyback harshly finished, "Let me finish him my own way."_

" _No!" Bellatrix shouted in a breathy tone. "The Dark Lord was clear. The boy has to do it." She turned to me with what could be considered an encouraging expression. "This is your moment. Do it."_

 _My moment. I mentally scoffed. This is one heck of a moment. If killing Dumbledore is the only thing I will be famous for, I really am a monster._

" _Go on, Draco! Now!" Bellatrix shouted when I still hadn't cast the Curse._

 _I couldn't let my family die._

 _With a wave of my wand, I shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"_

* * *

I woke with a start, a dull thudding sounding in my ears. That wasn't how it happened. I didn't cast the Curse that killed him, but which was worse: ensuring a man's death or committing it yourself?

"Draco?" a distant voice called. It sounded like my mother.

I gulped down my nerves from my dream and rose from my bed. I crossed the room to the door and opened it a crack.

"Yeah?" I shouted back.

"Mister Crabbe and Mister Goyle are here, and they've brought their sons with them! Are you in your room?"

"Yeah!" I received no reply, but after a minute or two, the door was shoved open, and I narrowly avoided getting hit in the stomach with the doorknob.

My two friends burst through the doorway and both hit me lightly on the shoulder in greeting.

"You had a job from You-Know-Who himself and you didn't tell us?" Crabbe exclaimed.

"I was told not to tell anyone," I responded quietly.

"What was it?" Crabbe demanded.

I hesitated. I wasn't sure if I could tell them, and what would they think if I did? I knew that their parents firmly believe in what Voldemort said, but I wasn't sure if my friends did.

"Oh, come on, Malfoy," Goyle encouraged.

I refused to tell them all of it, but I would talk about some of it. "You know that old story about the Vanishing Cabinet in the school?" I asked.

"Yeah. Didn't some kid break it and get stuck in a toilet?" Crabbe laughed, getting Goyle to snicker.

"Yeah," I confirmed. "I found it and mended it. I formed a passage between it and its sort of twin at Borgin and Burkes. That allowed the Death Eaters to come into the school and avoid the barriers they staff put in."

"Then they took the school and killed Dumbledore!" Crabbe finished.

"Y-yeah," I agreed, glad that their curiosity seemed to be satisfied.

"Did you hear who the new Headmaster's gonna be?" Goyle wondered.

"I didn't even know they found a replacement so quickly."

"McGonagall said that they wanted to get it done quickly so that everyone can have time to grieve," Goyle informed.

I nodded. "Who'd they get?"

"Snape," Crabbe answered, disbelief ringing in his voice. "He volunteered instantly. Said that Dumbledore asked him to be his successor."

"You mean the _Dark Lord_ asked him to be Dumbledore's successor," I corrected.

"How would you know?"

"I don't. Not for sure, anyways," I clarified. "But Snape is a Death Eater, and you said it yourself. They took the school, and they want complete control over it. The best way to do that is to have a Death Eater be Headmaster."

"Snape's a Death Eater?" Crabbe breathed.

I gave him an incredulous look. "You know I'm a Death Eater, so I assumed you knew about Snape."

The two stared at me with disbelieving wide eyes.

"You're a Death Eater?" Goyle shouted at the same time Crabbe yelled, "Can I see the Mark."

"We knew you had a job from You-Know-Who, but we didn't know you were an actual Death Eater!" Goyle continued.

"Okay," I voiced slowly, trying to decide how to answer the both of them. "I started Death Eater training Fifth Year. Snape trained me, and my Mark fully formed a few months ago, so yes. I'm official."

It was strange to say that fact aloud, but it was true, nonetheless. I'm a Death Eater.

"Can I see the Mark?" Crabbe pleaded, excitement in his voice.

I rolled my eyes at my friend's actions. Why was he looking forward to seeing something that meant death?

I hesitantly unbuttoned the cuff covering my left wrist and rolled up my sleeve, holding my bare wrist out for my friends to see.

"That's so cool!" Crabbe exclaimed.

"Wicked!" Goyle agreed.

Crabbe reached out to take hold of my wrist, but I quickly pulled my hand away. "Don't."

"Why not?" Crabbe whined.

"Because touching it summons You-Know-Who, and we're not supposed to do that unless we've captured Potter."

"So you've got a plan to get him, then?" Goyle asked.

"Not that I've been told," I answered, "but someone somewhere is coming up with one."

"Good!" Crabbe yelled.

"That _Potter's_ the only thing standing in the way of us winning this New Wizarding War," Goyle agreed.

None of us spoke for a moment, but Goyle eventually broke the silence. "We're staying for dinner, you know."

"Really?" I half-heartedly wondered.

"Yeah," Crabbe confirmed. "Our fathers are staying later, but they're sending us home at the end of the night."

"So, what was training like?" Goyle interjected.

"Yeah! Tell us!" Crabbe insisted. "Death Eaters are, like, superheroes, so I've always wanted to be one like my dad. You're lucky."

I scoffed. "Not as lucky as you'd think."

"What do you mean?" Crabbe wondered.

"I practiced during the summers, and they put up some kind of shield so that the Trace wouldn't detect my use of magic while underage," I explained, wandering back to my bed.

The other two followed me and took a seat on either side of me on the mattress as I told them everything about my Death Eater training with Snape. My hand shook uncontrollably as I spoke, so I slipped my hand underneath my leg to hide it from them. It was clear by now that the tremor in my hand was linked to fear somehow. Whether I was actually afraid or thinking about times when I was, my hand would shake, and the more afraid I was or the more I thought about it, the worse the tremor would become.

"Guess my father was right," Crabbe said once I concluded.

"Right about what?" I asked, trying desperately to maneuver the conversation away from my being a Death Eater.

"He said I wouldn't be able to handle training," Crabbe answered.

"Well, of course you wouldn't," Goyle laughed. "You can't go five minutes without food."

"Neither can you, Goyle," I reminded, forcing a small laugh.

"True," my friend agreed with a real chuckle.

"Draco! Dinner!" my mother called from downstairs. "And bring your friends with you!"

"You heard her," I said, playfully slapping my two friends on the shoulder.

The two laughed as Crabbe shouted, "Race ya to the bottom of the stairs!"

Goyle smirked confidently, tearing out of my room and down the hall.

I laughed quietly at their antics and followed them out. I moved fast enough to keep up with them and make it look like I was enjoying the race, but I was still stuck in the training. Flashes of green light and the echoing screeches of animals replayed in my mind the entire way to the doors of the dining hall.

"You lose, Malfoy!" Crabbe mocked, and Goyle laughed in agreement.

"Quiet down, you guys," I warned. "A lot of Death Eaters are staying here, so we're probably all having dinner together."

"Right," Goyle whispered and slapped Crabbe in the stomach to get him to agree.

With an intense nod from Crabbe, I opened the doors to our dining hall and walked through with my friends following close behind me.

My friends' parents had saved seats beside them, and there was an empty seat between my parents. The three of us separated, and I took the seat between my parents.

"Where have you been?" my father hissed in my ear.

"With my friends," I carefully answered, glancing at the drink in his hand.

He still wasn't sober. How was that possible? Has he been drinking all day?

I glanced nervously at my father all through dinner, attempting to use my left hand as I ate so that no one would see my right hand tremble as my mind kept making me feel like my father was still gripping my neck. Each time I swallowed, my throat turned to fire.

 **I hope you guys enjoyed, and I'll see you next week!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Hello, everyone! Time for another chapter! School is finally out for the holidays, so I can at last get back to writing this thing. It's almost done. I hope you guys enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Chapter Twenty-one**

A few weeks later, I was startled awake by yet another nightmare about Dumbledore's death and was on my way to the front door for some fresh air when I noticed a lamp flickering in one of our study rooms. I peeked through the crack between the double doors and spotted my father slouching in a chair with his head in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and a half empty bottle of liquor resting on the small table beside him.

I gently pushed one of the doors open and softly called, "Father?"

He jumped and looked up at me through squinted and unfocused eyes. "Draco. What're you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," I answered, inching closer to him.

"Neither could I."

"So you're drinking again," I countered, leaning against the table that supported the bottle of wine.

I had my wand with me. I could make the bottle disappear before he could pour himself another glass. I still had the Trace on me, but the Ministry wouldn't be able to detect the magic because of the Dark Arts shield placed on our property. No one could detect the magic used here.

"You turn seventeen tomorrow, don't you?" my father slurred looking up at me with a forced smile.

I nodded in answer.

"Anything you want?"

"Not really." In all honesty, the only thing I wanted for my birthday was to be left alone. I wanted a day to be forgotten.

Ever since I failed to kill Dumbledore, I've been the center of attention, and it wasn't in a good way. The other Death Eaters around the house would mock me both behind my back and to my face, but that wasn't a problem. The Gryffindors at school laughed at me constantly, so it was easy to tune out the Death Eaters. What got to me was the torture. Some of them would throw painful spells and curses in my direction when I wasn't paying attention. They laughed when I cried out in pain or was tripped up.

To most of them, it was a game. A sort of prank they used to get back at me, but to others, it was revenge for my weakness. Those Death Eaters would hold a Cruciatus Curse on me for minutes at a time. They would spit at my feet and leave me lying on the floor.

My father was no help. He was always drinking, and I hardly ever saw him. I had no idea where mother was, but I always knew where my father was: in a private room with some type of alcohol to keep him company. Every time I would enter the room he asked me the same questions: how I was doing there, and what I was doing. I tried to take the alcohol away from him several times, but he always stopped me. He used magic against me and held be by the neck more times than I could count, but I still had some hope that tonight would be different.

"Well, you let me know if you think of anything you want for tomorrow," my father suggested after another sip of his drink.

His glass was almost finished. I had to move the wine bottle now.

I straightened my posture, slipped my hand into my large pockets and fingered the handle of my wand. I didn't have to make the bottle vanish, just the wine inside of it. A little spell to the leg of the table would throw the bottle to the ground and break it, doing away with the wine.

I flicked my wand inside of my pocket and made the table wobble. The bottle tilted, and I grew hopeful that this would work, but when the bottle was about to slip off of the small table entirely, Father noticed and quickly grabbed it.

He lifted the bottle and waited for the table to stop shaking before putting it back down. He glanced at me with anger and demanded, "Did you do this? Did you try to break it?"

"No," I lied, pleading that he wouldn't see through me.

"Let me see your hand, Draco."

I backed away from him, growing nervous at his rising volume. Father hardly ever rose his voice with me when I was a child, but lately, when he has, it always came with pain.

"Draco, let me see what's in your pocket," he ordered, his voice barely below a shout.

I gulped down the lump in my throat and pulled my wand out of my pocket.

"So you did try to take my drink from me."

I flipped my wand around in my hand so that I was holding the tip instead of the handle and held my hands up. "You've had enough of it. I'm just trying to help you."

Father scoffed and rose from his chair, his glass cup still in his hand. "You know how you could have helped me? By doing what you were supposed to. Why didn't you?"

"I-I-"

" _I_ am tired of your excuses!" he shouted, reaching behind him and drawing his wand from his chair.

He leveled the instrument at my chest, and I dropped my wand. I was too afraid of what he might do if I opened my mouth again, but I had to do something to get him to stop. Before he hurt me again.

I slowly got to my knees in front of him, keeping my hands up, and stared at his face, pleading that he would put his wand down. But instead, my father bent down to my level and got close enough for me to be overpowered by the stench of alcohol radiating off of his breath.

"You're a pathetic excuse for a Malfoy," he hissed.

My heart jumped. He couldn't mean that. I was his son, and he cared for me, right? "Y-you don't-"

He smashed the glass he held into the side of my head, making it shatter. The force of his blow sent me to the floor, stinging pain spreading across my cheek.

"You're not supposed to talk back to your father," he breathed, a threat ringing in his voice as he stood back to his full height.

I looked up at him as he towered over me, too afraid to move. My heart pounded, and I reached up to my stinging cheek and cautiously prodded the injury. I inspected my trembling hand and found hot, red blood smeared across my fingertips.

"What? Afraid of a little blood?" my father mocked as he aimed his wand at me again. "You really are pathetic."

I opened my mouth to apologize and beg him to let me leave, but I was cut off by the worst spell I've ever been subject to.

"Crucio!" he shouted, instantly spreading poison-like pain through my veins.

I screamed and writhed on the floor in a desperate attempt to break free of the pain, but I knew it was of no use. The Torture Curse made terrible pain come from your own heart, and the only way to get rid of it was to lose consciousness, but I couldn't force myself to.

I didn't know how long had passed, but the pain eventually ended, and something clattered to the floor.

"D-D-Draco?" my father's voice gently called.

I dragged my eyes open, and I found my father kneeling close to me, looking terrified. He looked like himself. For the first time this summer, he looked like the father I used to know.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry," he stuttered, raising a trembling hand towards me.

My heart jumped at his action, and I forced my aching limbs to push away from him, my hands stinging as my skin was pierced by the shattered glass on the floor.

"No, no, no," my father repeated, quickly catching up to me. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He took me into his arms and gripped me in a tight embrace.

I wanted to return it. I wanted to believe for a moment that there was hope for my father, but there wasn't. He wouldn't do this if he was sober, no, but it's clear to me, now, that he would never get that way.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered into my hair, his arms tightening around my like a coiling snake.

I glanced around wildly for my wand and found that it was close enough for me to grasp. I carefully reached out with my shaking hand and slowly took hold of the handle. I waited for a few moments to see if my father had noticed my movement, but he gave no indication that he had. He only whispered apologies again and again.

I quickly brought my wand up and threw a stunning spell at him, not caring if it hit him or not. He let me go, and I scrambled to stand and ran from the study room.

"Draco!" Lucius shouted as I ran.

I didn't look back, and I didn't stop until I had gotten to my room, closed the door and bolted it shut.

I instantly released my wand and dropped to the floor. I curled my knees up to my chest and held myself as my fear gave way to grief.

My father was gone. He was here physically, but he hated me, now.

Maybe I should have refused Voldemort's request to help him a few years ago. He would have probably killed me for refusing, and if not for that, for knowing too much about his plans. I didn't want to die, but dying was starting to look better than this.

But though my father hated me, I still had my mother. And we are at war. Maybe I could do my part and take it down from the inside, but how could I do that? I'm surrounded by the enemy, and technically, I am the enemy.

How could I help Harry Potter from here?

 **Until next week! Until then, happy holidays, Merry Christmas, and happy Hanukkah! Remember to take time to focus on what matters this season!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Hey, everybody! Chapter 22! You guys are catching up to me quick. I'm working on chapter 30. Once you guys catch up, updates will slow down. It's almost done, though! Yay!**

 **This chapter is super short, but it leads to...things... There are plenty longer ones in the future. I promise. Hope you guys like it!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

 **Chapter Twenty-two**

I didn't get what I wanted for my birthday. My birthday was a day like any other. The house was filled with Death Eaters that hated me, and I was continually forced to bring Ollivander food. The old shopkeeper was looking worse by the day, and I hated looking at him. He looked as helpless as I felt.

My father continually tried to apologize to me, and I didn't see him drink the entire day. That was my one birthday present. My father was sober. He didn't hurt me or anyone else, but there was still a constant, gnawing dread in the pit of my stomach that told me that he was going to hurt me again. I didn't want to be afraid of my father, but ever since last night, I couldn't stop myself from jumping when he moved too quickly or got too close.

So when I settled into bed and Lucius opened the door, I instantly stood back up. I grabbed my wand and held it behind my back as he entered, trying to calm myself down. He was sober, though he looked terrible. He wouldn't hurt me now, but I still had a Dementor-like fear of him that made my stomach churn.

"I hate to tell you this on your birthday, Draco, but I don't think that I'll have another opportunity to do so," my father voiced, letting the door fall closed behind him.

I jumped slightly when the door clicked shut, but I forced my voice to remain steady. "Tell me what?"

Lucius took a deep breath, as if he was hesitating. "You're not going to school for your Seventh Year."

I narrowed my eyes at him in confusion. "Why wouldn't I go?"

"The Dark Lord will need everyone," my father elaborated. "We're going to make big steps in this war, and he needs every one of us to help him, and that includes you."

"Okay," I responded, unsure of what to say.

We fell into an uncomfortable silence for a while until Lucius jumped as if startled and exclaimed, "Oh! I just remembered. We have a meeting tomorrow."

"A meeting?"

"Yes. All of the Death Eaters will be there as well as the Dark Lord," he answered.

"Do you know why?" I asked.

"No. We never know why." His voice trailed off as if he was trying to figure something out.

Neither of us spoke for even longer than the first time, but my father broke the silence again with an abrupt, "Goodnight, Draco. And happy birthday." He quickly left my room and closed the door behind him.

Once he was gone, I was finally able to relax. I placed my wand back on my nightstand with a sigh. Now there was a meeting. Every single Death Eater would be there. Several of them were staying at the house already, but more would come.

I quickly shook my head, desperately trying to banish the unsettling thoughts. I should head to bed. I had to get some rest.

I crawled into bed and wrapped myself in my covers, hoping to sleep, but I couldn't get comfortable. I turned every way I could think of but never fell asleep. I couldn't take my mind off of the meeting tomorrow.

My father said that they were going to take big steps in the war, but what big steps? It most likely meant that You-Know-Who had figured out some way to capture and/or kill Harry Potter.

Harry was the only hope anyone had in winning this war. If he's killed, Voldemort would take over the world. I had to help Potter, but how could I? My hands are tied. If I help him, I'll be killed, but if I don't, Harry would be killed instead.

Who would lead the resistance then? If I remembered correctly, they were called the Order of the Phoenix, and I thought that Dumbledore was a part of it, too. Both of their leaders would be dead if Voldemort's plan succeeded, and Harry's two friends would most likely lay their lives on the line to protect him and die doing so. No one would be left.

Except for me.

 **See you next week when we'll officially start Deathly Hallows Part One!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey, guys! I'm updating a little early because...I just want to. We're officially starting Deathly Hallows Part One, and I'm excited. I'm working on Chapter Thirty-two, and it's really exciting to write! Hope you enjoy! And this one's a bit longer than usual to make up for my previously shorter chapter.  
**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, and there's no copyright infringement intended.**

 **Chapter Twenty-three**

I watched the sunrise out of my window. I didn't sleep the entire night. I might have dozed a few minutes here or there throughout the night, but I never truly slept. I was too stressed. My anxiety was wearing down my mind, and my hand refused to stop shaking.

It was maybe seven in the morning when the door behind me clicked open. I glanced over my shoulder and saw my father stumble in through the doorway. He tripped over something I couldn't see and fell into the door, making it hit the wall with a bang.

"T-the oth-ther Death Eaters a-are arriving," he slurred.

I turned around on my sheets to face him and checked his hands. Sure enough, there was a glass filled to the brim with liquor.

My heart sank. Why was he drinking again? I understood that he was stressed, but why did he have to drink again? What could I do to help him? He would hurt me if I tried.

"Well?" Lucius demanded. "Are you coming or not?"

"Just let me get dressed," I muttered, rising from my bed.

He nodded and gave me an odd look before stumbling away.

I dragged my wand from my nightstand and waved it at the door, making it drift shut.

Despite the fact that all of the Death Eaters were coming, I dressed slowly. I tried to force myself to go faster, but my dread outweighed my fear. Once I left my room, I would be surrounded by murderers and psychopaths who probably all wanted to destroy me for not killing Dumbledore.

Then there was my father. He's a drunk, and anything could set him off. If I ask a question I'm apparently not supposed to, he would choke me, and If I tried to help him by taking away his alcohol, he'll do what he did two nights ago.

Lucius was intimidating when I was a child, but I could always tell that he loved me. Now, I'm not so sure. He tortured me with an Unforgivable Curse. What loving father would do that to his son?

I opened my wardrobe's door to reveal my full-length mirror. I grabbed one of my various black ties to match my black suit. I watched myself in the mirror as I tied the Windsor knot around my neck.

I was almost done. That fact made my heart race. I breathed deeply to try to calm myself, but as usual, the more I tried to calm myself, the more I was reminded about why I needed to be calm, which made my heart race even more.

I straightened my tie and smoothed out the wrinkles in my suit. I combed out the knots in my white-blond hair with a shaking hand, grabbed my wand and looked myself over in the mirror to be sure I was presentable.

I took one last preparatory breath before pocketing my wand, closing the door of my wardrobe and leaving my room. I let the door slowly fall closed, stalling for time.

I didn't know where we were meeting, but if I had a guess, it would be in the dining room. It's where we met every time for as long as I've been a Death Eater.

I took each and every step as slowly as I could, and eventually arrived to the open doors of our dining hall as each Death Eater was taking their seat at the table. I froze outside of the halls, never having seen this many Death Eaters in one place. I had seen many of them by now, but they were always in small groups. Having all of them together was more terrifying than I thought it would be.

"You need to head in, Draco," a woman's voice ordered behind me. I turned my head to find my mother approaching me, her heels clicking softly against the floor. "I know you're scared, but you need to head in," she encouraged softly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Where've you been?" I questioned quietly. She left me alone with my drunk of a father for months. How could she do that?

A look of guilt flashed across her face. "I couldn't let you see me. I couldn't communicate with you at all. I was ordered."

"And who ordered that?"

"The Dark Lord," she answered. "You may think that he just orders his Death Eaters around, but he knows us. He doesn't know everything about us, but he knows enough. He knows that you're closer with me than your father, and we all watched your father's...decline...I was part of your punishment for not killing Dumbledore."

I nodded but didn't respond otherwise.

"Let's go," Mother whispered with an encouraging smile.

She gently took my hand and led me into the dining room. We made our way through the light chatter of the other Death Eaters and took our seat at the table. My mother gestured for me to take a seat next to my father, who was sitting stiffly with his back pressed hard against the chair. I took nervous note of the drink near his hand as I lowered myself into the chair, my mother taking her seat on the other side of him.

Food was served at random times as we waited out the hours, but eventually every Death Eater had arrived and taken their place at the table except for one.

Two seats remained empty: the head of the table, which was obviously meant for the Dark Lord, and one on the left of the head chair. That one was meant for Snape. He was nowhere to be found. I scanned the face of each Death Eater at the table several times and never spotted him.

I didn't know why I was so anxious to see him. He trained me, tortured me, starved me. But he also saved my life. He let me be a part of Dumbledore's salute after he was killed, but it didn't change the fact that he probably couldn't care less about me. He trained me because he was ordered to. He saved my life because he would have died if he didn't. He was less pressuring than the others because he wasn't around.

"So glad to see you all here," Voldemort's distinctive voice whispered.

We all turned our heads to greet him, but I missed him entirely. All I could see was the woman he had floating beside him. She was on her back and entirely limp. Her arms and legs hung lower than her chest. Her mouth hung open and there were fresh wounds on the side of her head and her chin, blood smearing along her cheek and jaw.

Voldemort waved his wand and forced the woman glide over the table to the other end of the room, Wormtail following close behind her. The woman faced towards us, and Wormtail leaned against one of the pillars near her.

I thought I recognized the woman from school, but I couldn't be sure. If she was from Hogwarts, she must be one of the professors, whose class I never took.

"Feel free to talk amongst yourselves," the Dark Lord invited, placing his bone-shaped wand on the table as he lowered himself into the head chair.

The other Death Eaters resumed their quiet chatter, but my family and I remained silent for the next hour or so.

Footsteps suddenly echoed distantly and drew closer with each second. I glanced towards the staircase that led directly to the foyer, and a moment later, Snape appeared in on the top step. He froze and stared at the woman floating at the end of the room.

"Severus," Voldemort breathed, getting Snape to look at him. "I was beginning to worry you had lost your way. Come. We've saved you a seat." He gestured to the empty seat at his left.

Snape glided slowly across the floor and took his seat.

"You bring news, I trust," Voldemort instantly asked.

"It will happen Saturday next, at nightfall," Snape gradually answered.

"I heard differently, my lord," a Death Eater named Yaxley disagreed. "Dawlish, the Auror, has let slip that the Potter boy will not be moved until the thirtieth of this month. The day before he turns seventeen."

"This is a false trail," Snape forcefully denied. "The Auror Office no longer plays any part in the protection of Harry Potter. Those closest to him believe that we have infiltrated the Ministry."

"Well, they got that right, didn't they?" a man joked, getting all of the Death Eaters-except for my family-to laugh lightly.

"What say you, Paius?" the Dark Lord asked softly.

I glanced at the other end of the table and saw that the long-haired man was entirely silent, a forced smile on his lips. He looked up to Voldemort and took a breath before speaking, as if clearing nerves. "One hears many thing, my lord. Whether the truth is among them is not clear."

"Ha!" Voldemort laughed. "Spoken like a true politician. I think you will prove most useful Paius."

The long-haired man forced another fake smile onto his face, but it quickly disappeared.

"Where will he be taken, the boy," the Dark Lord questioned, turning back to Snape.

"To a safe house," the former professor answered. "Most likely the home of someone in the Order. I'm told it's been given every manner of protection possible. Once there, it will be impractical to attack him."

A woman near me cleared her throat and I looked around my father to find Bellatrix leaning forward in her chair. "My lord. I'd like to volunteer myself for this task. I want to kill the boy."

A shout from Ollivander came from below. He screamed all the time. At first he was silent unless a Death Eater was down in the cellar with him. Later, he screamed whenever possible, calling for help. Now, his screams were rarely heard at all.

"Wormtail!" Voldemort yelled. "Have I not spoken to you about keeping our guest quiet!"

"Yes, my lord. Right away, my lord," the nervous man muttered, racing off towards the cellar.

"As inspiring as I find your bloodlust, Bellatrix," the Dark Lord resumed, looking back to my aunt, "I must be the one to kill Harry Potter."

Bellatrix instantly shrank back into her chair, lowering her head as if ashamed. Or afraid. Her crazed mane of black hair concealed her face.

"But I face an unfortunate complication," Voldemort continued, taking his wand from the table and rising from his seat. "That my wand and Potter's share the same core." He moved around the back of his chair to the side of the table my family and I sat. "They are, in some ways, twins. We can wound but not fatally harm one another." He slowly lowered his wand back to the table. "If I am to kill him, I must do it with another's wand."

The Dark Lord slowly began to pace behind the chairs on our side of the table. I tensed when he got close, though I forced it not to show.

"Come. Surely one of you would like the honor," Voldemort uttered, my heart racing as I saw his pale hand grasp the my chair out of the corner of my eye.

At last he moved on from us and glided passed the other nervous Death Eaters.

When still no one answered, Voldemort walked back to me and my family, pausing between me and my distant and sick-looking father. "What about you, Lucius?" he hissed.

My father's eyes finally focused, and he glanced up at Voldemort who grasped the back of his chair. "My lord?"

"'My lord?'" Voldemort mocked. "I require your wand." He stretched out his long-fingered hand in request, his palm open towards my father.

My father tensed and his mouth twitched like he wanted to say something, but he quickly lost his fire. He lifted his walking stick and grasped the silver snake head at the end of it. Both of his hands trembled as he drew his wand. He held it out to the Dark Lord who quickly took it from him.

Voldemort held it for a moment, studying it. "Do I detect elm?"

"Yes, my lord," Father quietly answered. He looked so terrified and ill that I felt terrible for him. He didn't look like the drunk who hit me with a glass the other night. He looked like a broken man that couldn't take any more.

Voldemort took the wood of the wand in his other hand and snapped off the decorative silver handle, making both me and my father jump. "And the core?" he questioned.

"Dragon," my father muttered weakly before clearing his throat and continuing in a stronger voice. "Dragon heartstring, my lord."

"Dragon heartstring," Voldemort repeated.

There was a moment of tense silence before the Dark Lord carelessly tossed Father's silver snake head onto the wooden table. My father jumped as it clattered, staring at what used to be attached to his wand.

Voldemort waved my father's wand towards the injured woman floating at the end of the table, bringing her forward. "For those of you who don't know, we are joined to night by Miss Charity Burbage, who-until recently-taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her specialty was Muggle Studies," the Dark Lord continued, getting the Death Eaters to chuckle quietly as he began to move back to his seat. "It is Miss Burbage's belief that Muggles are not so different from us. She would, given her way, have us mate with them."

The Death Eaters laughed openly at the information, and a few mockingly gagged in disgust.

I didn't understand what was so funny or disgusting about getting married to a Muggle. It was a little odd, but it wasn't terrible. They can still have a child of magic, so what was the problem? Well, there was the social class issue, but there wasn't anything else that I could think of.

"To her, the mixture of magical and Muggle blood is not an abomination but something to be encouraged," Voldemort explained, as he lowered himself back into his chair.

"Severus," Burbage muttered, surprising me. She looked too weak to talk. "Severus, please," she begged as Snape stared back at her blankly. "We're friends."

Voldemort glanced at Snape before raising my father's wand and mercilessly shouting, "Avada Kedavra!"

The flash of green light made me jump, and the thud of Professor Burbage's body made my heart clench. I gulped as I stared at her unmoving body. Her eyes remained open, and there was still a fear and pain-induced tear sliding down her cheek.

I saw Dumbledore's body after Snape killed him, but he was far away from me, and his eyes were closed. I had never been this close to the body of someone who had died. It was horrifying. She looked like a limp rag doll, but at the same time, she looked too life-like to be any such thing. Her eyes were the worst part. They were so dark, like black holes. There was no light in them. They almost didn't look human.

"Nagini," Voldemort cooed. "Dinner."

The Death Eaters retracted their hands and placed them in their laps as the thick, hissing snake slithered across the table. I tensed as it passed, but it didn't even glance at me as it focused on Charity's body sprawled on the table a few feet from me.

The snake coiled for a moment, its forked tongue repeatedly slipping out of its mouth. Nagini suddenly launched its powerful body at the former professor, its fangs jutting out of its gaping mouth.

The snake latched itself onto Charity's head and slowly consumed her, it's fang's opening hundred's of non-bleeding wounds on her skin. Its muscles flexed with each swallow, and the more the creature swallowed, the less remained of the professor.

My stomach churned like hasn't had since last summer. I wanted to look away from the disgusting scene, but I couldn't. Someone here had to watch her go. Someone who actually cared that she was going at all.

It only took the large snake a few minutes to consume Charity Burbage. Her body formed a large lump in the center of the snake. The creature rested its head on the table as if the effort of eating its...dinner...had exhausted it.

"We will ambush him the night he is moved," Voldemort breathed, getting me to tear my attention away from the snake.

"They will move him at night from his house on 4 Privet Drive in Little Winging," Snape provided.

The Dark Lord nodded. "We will reconvene here a few hours before he his moved. Draco? Do you still have the Trace on you?"

I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. "No, sir," I answered, forcing my voice to steady. "It broke yesterday."

"Good," Voldemort whispered. "We can have everyone's help. Well, everyone except for Lucius," he laughed, getting the rest of the Death Eaters to chuckle in agreement. "We will dismiss for the evening."

The Death Eaters rose from the table and slowly made their way to the doors of the dining hall. I rose with my parents and followed them out of the doors. We stood by the front door and said goodbye to each Death Eater. I numbly offered my hand to each of them as my parents did. They shook my hand briefly before leaving.

When Snape walked up to me he grasped my hand and lingered for a while, giving me a look I couldn't decipher. After a moment, the new Headmaster shook his head before leaving with the rest of the Death Eaters.

When finally the last of them had left, Mother closed the door after them and turned to me. "Why don't you head up to bed, Draco. It's late."

I nodded and gladly retreated to the relative safety of my room. I locked the door behind me and fell into bed, not caring that I was still in a suit.

Miss Burbage's death had not stopped replaying in my mind since it happened, and in addition to that, I was being forced to attack Harry and his friends. I would undoubtedly be watched. I would have to throw a few Killing Curses at least. I could miss on purpose and say that they dodged it, but I could still get caught. It depended on how he was moved. They could be too easy to miss or too easy to hit.

My mind drifted in and out of sleep, and I dreamt of Professor Burbage and the impending ambush. They were terrifying images of death and war that I didn't know my mind contained:

 _I murdered Potter, Weasley and Granger, Nagini consuming each of their bodies for dinner._

 _I didn't kill anyone, but I witnessed the massacre of Potter and every single one of his friends. Then the Death Eaters turned to me and brutally killed me because I refused to take part in it._

 _My father tortured me with a Cruciatus Curse until I ended up exactly like Longbottom's parents._

I woke up shaking and covered in cold sweat after each nightmare, and eventually, I gave up on sleep all together.

 **See you next soon for the big ambush!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Hey, everybody! I know. Two updates this week. Well. It's the last official day of winter break here. I have to go back to school the day after tomorrow, so I figured, "Hey. Why not end this break on a happy note and update twice?"**

 **Anyways. Here we go! The big ambush in Deathly Hallows Part One! Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Chapter Twenty-four**

The week leading up to the ambush was torturous. Not only did I have to continue bringing food to Ollivander-who was looking worse than ever-but I didn't sleep and I barely ate. I couldn't bring myself to eat, and my mind was too troubled by what was to come to let me rest. The moment I closed my eyes, I had a vision of my father trying to kill me, and if I slept any deeper, I had even worse nightmares of me killing others, so I wasn't sure if I should be relieved or terrified when the Saturday of the ambush came.

But I decided on terrified when my mother approached me with a dark cloak and a silver mask the afternoon before we took off.

"You've got to put these on before the other Death Eaters arrive," she told me. "At least the cloak. You don't have to put on the mask until the ambush."

I didn't take them. It took all I had to not recoil in disgust at the items.

"Draco," she sighed, warning in her voice, "I know the thought of ambushing the Order is intimidating, but you have to do it. We all have to…Except your father."

"I assume that he's in no state to come," I spat, my hand automatically going to the cheek Lucius cut with his glass a few nights ago.

My mother looked at me pointedly. "Did he do something?"

"No," I quickly answered. "I'll just go put these on in my room." I took the cloak and mask from my mother and rushed up to my room, avoiding any further talk of my father.

I threw the dark robe and shining mask onto my bed and closed the door, locking it behind me.

The sun was setting. The Death Eaters were almost here. A few more hours, and they would start arriving. They all seemed anxious to start the ambush, so they'll arrive quickly. An hour or two from then, and we would fly off to Potter's house.

I would miss on purpose. I refuse to kill anyone.

Unless a Death Eater is on the other end of my Curse.

But I had to make it look like I was trying during the ambush.

Either way, I had to wear that cloak and mask. The uniform of a true Death Eater.

This was a mistake.

"Draco! Let's go! They've started arriving!" my mother's faint voice called.

My breathing grew shaky as I grasped the hem of the dark robe with my trembling hand. I squeezed my eyes shut, and quickly pulled the cloak over my clothes. Once the hood of the robe flattened my hair, I opened my eyes again.

My heart danced as I took the mask from my bed. I didn't have to wear this yet. Right now, I'm just wearing a robe. Nothing more. I couldn't think of the cloak as a Dark Mark, though it practically was. If I though of it like that, I wouldn't be able to do this.

I left my room and arrived in the dining room much faster than I would have liked. Most of the Death Eaters were already there. Many of them held brooms at the ready, and there were spares leaning up against the walls.

"There you are," Mother sighed. "You took a while. I was starting to get worried."

"Sorry," I muttered halfheartedly.

"Are you ready?" a low voice slurred.

I turned to the side to find my father standing unsteadily and leaning heavily on his walking stick.

I didn't respond.

Lucius glanced at Mother, who nodded and walked off to talk to a group of other Death Eaters.

My father approached me slowly and leaned down to my height.

"Your first battle is always frightening," he softly began, "but you have nothing to be afraid of."

My chest tensed painfully with his words. His breath still reeked of alcohol, but is was much less potent. He looked like my father. My real father who held me until I lost consciousness during training.

"I don't want to kill anyone," I sighed, the words coming out of me before I could stop them. "And I don't want to die."

"And neither of those things will happen." I gave him a confused look. "You just have to weaken them. Then you can let everyone else finish them off, and as for you getting killed, you know enough about magic to prevent that. And you have the other Death Eaters. We protect each other," he encouraged softly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

Why was he speaking like this? He hasn't spoken to me since the letter he sent me while I was in the hospital.

Something foreign made my mouth twitch upwards in the corner. "You're sober," I whispered, not realizing that I had said the words aloud.

Father's hand tensed so much that it was almost painful. I winced, and he instantly let go. He looked down at me with a mixture of fear and confusion before bowing his head and leaving the dining room.

After a minute or two, a distinctive and chilling voice cut through the Death Eater's chatter. "Is everyone ready?"

My mother appeared at my side as I glanced towards the dining room doors to confirm that it was who I thought.

"Good," Voldemort dismissed. "Everyone choose a broom and meet at the front gate in five minutes."

Mother turned to face me, and I noticed the two brooms gripped in her hand. One was standard but fast and the other was the one I hardly ever use anymore.

She held the brooms out to me, and I took the black-handled Nimbus 2001 from her. The green and black straw had gotten a bit frayed on the ends, but it was still in excellent condition.

"Are you ready?" she asked, scanning me for something.

"Nope," I answered simply and followed the other Death Eaters streaming out to the front of the estate.

We stood in a rigid, grid pattern, and a voice far towards the front commanded, "Brooms at the ready!"

I didn't know who the voice belonged to, but I followed everyone else as they put on their silver masks and raised their brooms in their right hands. I glanced at mine. It was shaking. It was almost constant now. There was no stopping it.

The others straddled their brooms and I did the same. There was no instruction for take off, but each line of Death Eaters in front of me lifted from the ground and launched into the sky.

I followed my row and flew through the sky. We stayed in the same rigid formation during the entire flight, and by the time we reached Little Winging, the sun had set and thick cloud cover was moving in.

I couldn't shake a feeling of dread that encroached on me. My hand wouldn't stop trembling even as I drew my wand. The mask was suffocatingly tight on my nose and mouth.

An animal that I've never heard before cried out. It was high-pitched and smooth, like a musical note. A second later, a large, bat-winged horse broke through the clouds. I jumped at the sight of it, having never seen the animal before, but I quickly recovered when I spotted Harry on the back of it along with a man with a scar and long red hair. I had to get to him before the others did.

But I was prevented from getting to him when a broom tore through the cloud cover with Mad-Eye Moody and a second Potter. I froze. There were two of them. More brooms and bat-like animals broke through the clouds, revealing more pairs of people, one of them always Potter.

Smart. No one could tell which was the real Harry, but that would mean that we would have to either kill or capture them all.

I picked a random Potter on a broom with who I thought was Professor Lupin and chased him through the flashes of green and blue. Screams of anger and fear rang almost as loudly as the bangs of spells. I threw a Killing Curse at the Harry on the back of the broom, purposefully missing. Potter gave me an odd look and answered my Curse with a stunning spell.

I raised my wand and blocked the spell, my wrist beginning to burn. Voldemort was coming.

Quickly glancing around, I spotted a black mist racing towards us.

I threw another curse at the Harry I was following, blasting his ear off the side of his head.

I zoomed off before You-Know-Who could get to me. He saw. He saw me take Potter's ear off. He couldn't punish me for not trying.

Every Potter seemed to have one or more Death Eater on him. I didn't know where to turn to. Everything was so loud and confusing.

A hot and loud blast of fire lit the clouds, and I turned to see some kind of flying machine race towards the ground with two Death Eaters on its tail.

I quickly followed after them, staying above the battle. This machine had another Harry Potter seated with Hagrid, and this Potter didn't seem to be casting many spells.

"Expelliarmus!" Potter shouted, sending a Death Eater's wand crashing to the ground.

Harry was always the best at disarming charms, and no one but him would disarm someone in the middle of a life or death battle.

Harry and Hagrid flew into a tunnel filled with Muggle vehicles. I hovered above the tunnel and waited for them to come out of the other side. Eventually, Potter and Hagrid came out, and they weren't followed. I had to get to him. Maybe we could get each other out of this.

I raced towards them, but found my way blocked. A screeching white owl flew towards my masked face and scraped at the silver material. This was definitely the real Harry Potter. His white owl wouldn't protect anyone else.

I was prepared to fly around it when my wrist burned again. Why did he always have to come? Why did he ruin my only chance at getting out of this?

I cast a Killing Curse at the owl, making it look like it got in the way. It screeched before going limp and falling out of the sky.

The burning in my Mark intensified to a terrible peak, forcing me to back away. Potter glided further and further away, taking my last chance with him. And I would likely never see him again.

A faint, pained scream echoed from the direction that Harry flew as a thick black mist quickly passed me by.

 _Go back to the others over Potter's house._

I jumped at the voice. I knew whose it was, and that only made it more disturbing.

I sluggishly turned my broom around and started to fly back to the others, but a harsh and angered shout made me jump. It didn't sound like Potter's.

He must have failed. Potter got away. He had to.

An almost unfamiliar emotion tugged the corners of my mouth upwards as I resumed my flight.

 **Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for your continued support and see you next week!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Hello, everybody! Time for another chapter! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Chapter Twenty-five**

The flight back home was entirely silent, and the number of Death Eaters did not dwindle from when we left.

At least Harry got away from him, but even that didn't seem to be an entirely good thing.

I covered my head with my pillow to try to muffle the screams. I hadn't seen Voldemort since the ambush, but Ollivander had not stopped screaming since I had gotten home. He never stopped for breath, and it didn't seem like he was going to stop any time soon.

I couldn't take it anymore. How long could Voldemort torture someone? Was it out of anger for not capturing Harry, or a preparation for when he did?

It was around one in the morning when everything finally quieted. I held my breath, doubting that it had stopped for good.

But after a minute had passed without sound, I gave myself permission to relax. I slumped down on my bed, though I didn't want to sleep. I would have nightmares filled with battles and screaming, so I got off of my mattress and reached under my bed. I pulled out a radio and blew off some of the stale cobwebs, coughing slightly as I accidentally inhaled some of the dust.

I placed the radio on my bedside table and sat back down on my bed. I flicked the switch on the front of the device, and it blinked to life. Static emitted from the speakers, and it squealed as the dile spun. I scrolled through the channels, hoping that whatever popped up would be enough to take my mind off of this current situation and allow me to sleep.

Music and news-both from the Wizarding and the Muggle Worlds-clicked by. I lingered on each one for a second or two before changing over to the next frequency, everything sounding like more of an annoyance than a help.

"We have received report that Lightning has struck the Burrows."

I paused at the voice coming through the speakers. It sounded like that Dean boy from Gryffindor.

"And it sounds like they're celebrating a wedding there," another familiar voice added. Dean's friend, maybe?

The two continued for a while. I didn't know exactly what they were talking about because I tuned in half-way through the broadcast, but it sounded like Dean and his friend dedicated the channel to the Second Wizarding War, delivering reports of the dead and someone they kept calling "Lightning." I figured that they meant Potter. Who else would have such a code name?

My exhaustion finally caught up with me as Dean's and his friend's voices drowned out the resuming sound of Ollivander's tortured cries. I laid my head down on my pillow, overjoyed when I found that I didn't feel the need to toss and turn. Eventually, their voices faded and I was asleep.

* * *

The next day, I was forced to bring food to Ollivander like normal, but every part of me trembled with trepidation. You-Know-Who might still be in there.

Wormtail let me into the cellar without a word and locked the barred door behind me.

"Mister Ollivander?" I called.

I received no response, and that scared me more than seeing the possible state he was in. I took careful steps forward, squinting in the low light.

After a few steps, my foot came into contact with something soft, and a quiet grunt answered.

I jumped slightly, and had to double my grip on the food tray to avoid spilling anything. Once I managed to steady myself, I glanced down and found a human silhouette huddled on the floor.

I bent down slowly and quietly placed the food tray on the floor. I drew my wand and lit the tip of it, dispelling the shadows around the figure. The man jumped and lifted his head to face me, groaning as he did so.

"Mister Ollivander?" I breathed, covering up my shock with a whisper.

He was covered in blood and bruises. His skin was littered with wounds that might not heal without magical help. "Draco?" he croaked.

"Yes," I muttered. "I-I've brought you some food."

"Thank you, Draco," he strained, his voice somehow sounding even weaker than before.

The older man grunted as he attempted to sit up, but it was clear that he was unable to do so alone. I straightened up and gently grabbed his arm with my free hand. I helped Ollivander raise himself up and leaned him onto a nearby pillar. Once I made sure that he was steady, I released his arm and retrieved the food tray from the floor. I placed the tray at his feet and stood back up.

I was unsure if I should leave him. He looked so weak. He needed a healer, but it's not like I knew where to get one without getting punished.

Ollivander reached for the small cup of water with a shaking hand. His hand trembled so much that he could barely hold it.

I glanced behind me and found that Wormtail was fixed rigidly at his post. He stared ahead, his back to the door. I swallowed deeply, silencing my nerves, and reached down and carefully taking hold of Ollivander's injured hand. I knelt beside him on the stone floor and helped him press the tin cup to his lips. He gulped down the water like it was the last he would ever drink. "Careful," I warned, slowly taking the cup away from the man. "You're going to choke yourself."

Ollivander panted slightly before uttering in a clearer voice, "Thank you, Draco."

The gate to the cellar clanged open, and I instantly stood, reciting _Knox_ in my mind to dim my wand.

"What's taking so long, Malfoy?" Pettigrew demanded, poking his head through the gap in the door. "Your family is about to have lunch."

"Nothing," I hastily answered. "I was just heading out."

Pettigrew shoved the door open to allow me through. I forced myself to stare straight ahead as I left the cellar. I feared that if I glanced back at Ollivander, I would stay and help him.

* * *

My family and I ate lunch in silence. My sickly father sat at the head of the table, his food hardly touched with a half-drunk glass of wine. My mother and aunt Bellatrix sat near each other, tense and quiet.

The meal was soup and sandwiches, and I ate as silently as the rest of them, hardly tasting a bite.

"The Dark Lord wants to attack Potter again," Bellatrix said loudly, shattering the silence like glass. "Trouble is we don't know where he is, now."

"Like Snape said," my father added, "he's at the home of someone in the Order."

"Yes, but which home?" my aunt countered.

I tensed as I remembered the radio station I had found last night. " _We have received report that Lightning has struck the Burrows."_ Wasn't that what they called Weasley's house?

"Are you alright, Draco?" Mother's voice asked.

I glanced up at her. "I'm fine. Why?"

"Your hand is shaking." She gestured to my right hand.

I looked down at my hand and found that it was trembling like it normally does.

Bellatrix eyed me curiously and leaned forward, pushing her food out of the way. "Do you know something, Draco?" she whispered threateningly.

"No," I answered firmly, straining to keep my voice steady. I withdrew my hand from the table and straightened my posture. "I have no idea where he is."

"How on Earth could he know where Potter is, sister?" my mother interrupted.

"Draco," my father gently said, sounding more like my father than he had in a long time. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "If you do know something, you need to tell us, now. Our family are the only ones in the house currently, so if you tell us now, we can resolve the matter privately. The Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters wouldn't need to know."

My shoulders automatically sagged at the softness in his voice. My lips parted and the answer almost slipped out, but I quickly shut them again.

The outcome of this War was more important than my relationship with my father. Especially since he had destroyed any remnant of our relationship the moment he started drinking.

"Do you know anything?" Bellatrix demanded, the threatening blood-lust in her eyes growing more intense by the second.

My muscles coiled even more, and I swallowed the answer down, meeting her gaze.

"What do you know?" she shouted, lunging at me from across the table.

She grabbed the collar of my shirt, dragged me out of my chair and threw me to the floor. My head hit the boards, making my ears ring.

"Bellatrix!" Mother yelled. A chair scraped the floor, dishes rattling on the table as she stood.

"Get out of here, Narcissa," my father said.

"Lucius…" Mother warned.

"I said, get out of here." My father came slowly entered my blurred field of vision. He leaned closer to Bellatrix and whispered, "If you're going to do this, take him to a more private room in case anyone shows up unannounced."

My aunt didn't say anything in answer, but she smirked and gazed down at me, her wild mane of hair covering her eyes.

Lucius walked away without giving me even a glance. Several steps stumbled as they retreated. My heart hammered against my chest. Maybe I should give her the answer now, and spare myself whatever my insane family member had planned.

Bellatrix backed away a few steps and trained her curved wand on me. She waved the instrument, something invisible wrapping itself around me like a snake. I struggled out of the hold, but it only got tighter. She lifted her wand and levitated me a few feet above the ground. She turned her back to me and marched from the room, making me float alongside her like Charity Burbage beside Voldemort.

Lestrange guided me with her wand, floating me into one of our libraries. She lowered her wand, and I fell hard onto the ground, the air instantly leaving my lungs. Whatever force that had wrapped around me, released its hold as the door slammed shut and clicked, locking it.

My aunt turned to me, an intense and frightening smirk on her lips. My chest tightened painfully, my stomach turning to knots as she approached me, her heels slapping against the stone floor.

"You are going to tell me Potter's location," she hissed, raising her wand and aiming it at me.

I scrambled away from her until my back pressed into an unyielding chair. I reached into my pocked and snatched up my own wand. I instantly aimed it at her, but she quickly flicked her wand, throwing mine out of reach.

I didn't see her wave her wand or hear her recite any curse. Her hungered eyes flashed wildly, and I was overwhelmed with pain, like I was dipped in acid. The world disappeared, and I was left alone, drifting in an inescapable world of pain.

"Where is he?" Bellatrix screeched. "Where is Potter?"

 _We have received report that Lightning has struck the Burrows._

I clamped my mouth shut, forcing myself to stop screaming. I couldn't tell her or anyone. They would not only kill Potter but anyone that stood in their way. The War would be instantly lost; but the pain was somehow pushing the answer steadily towards my mouth. The words created so much pressure in my throat that it was like I had swallowed a stone.

The barrage of torture abruptly ended, and I gasped for air, only to be choked off by a hand wrapped around my neck. I instinctively grabbed the slim hand and tried to pry it away. It was obvious that Bellatrix was the one choking me, but she reminded me too much of my father.

"You _will_ tell me where he is," she harshly whispered into my ear.

The answer, once again, bubbled up into my mouth, but I shoved it back down.

A sharp pain embedded itself into my hand, forcing me to let go of Lestrange's writs. The hand wrapped around my throat grew impossibly tight, and the sharp pain in my hand gradually slid up my arm, coming dangerously close to slitting my wrist.

I started to slip away into unconsciousness, and I pleaded that the darkness would come sooner, so I wouldn't have to feel her hurt me.

"The Burrows?" she exclaimed excitedly, releasing my neck, but I hardly heard her in my gasping for breath. "Where are the Burrows?" she questioned.

I opened my eyes and found her staring down at me with that same, bloodthirsty smirk. What did she mean? I didn't say anything. I couldn't have.

Bellatrix tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips with mocking pity. "You did tell me, Draco. You might not remember, but that's how it usually goes. They make the determination to not say a word, but then the pain becomes a bit too much, and they black out and tell. Don't be ashamed. Happens to everyone!" she cooed. "Never heard of it happening to a Malfoy, though." She trailed off and was silent for a moment before leaning closer to me. "Where's the Burrows?" she whispered.

"I don't know," I croaked. The world started to fade, and I willingly went with it, glad to sleep without dreaming.

"Oh, no, you don't," Bellatrix hissed, the stinging pain in my arm returning.

I cried out and snapped my eyes open, straining to get away from the pain, but Lestrange had me pinned to the floor.

"Where. Is. The Burrows?" she repeated, but I had nothing else to give. Nothing else to make the pain end.

"I don't know," I said through clenched teeth.

"Yes, you do," she muttered harshly, the stinging becoming even worse as it traveled up my arm. "You have to know something more."

I hissed as the pain passed my elbow.

"Is it a location?" she questioned calmly. "Or someone's house?"

Lestrange gasped at something and exclaimed, "So it _is_ someone's house? Whose?"

I made a point about keeping my mouth sealed. Maybe I told her that Potter was at the Burrows, but they didn't know where that was. Potter and everyone there would still live if I kept my mouth shut.

"Whose. House. Draco?" A small amount of panic in her voice this time.

The stinging pain in my arm abruptly left, the sharp tip of a cold blade pressed against my throat quickly replacing it.

When I remained silent, the blade cut into my neck slightly, my determination to keep the answer inside of myself faltering. If I told her, the most important people in this War would die, and if I didn't, she would slit my throat.

I closed my eyes, cementing my decision not to tell her. In all honesty, the thought of Bellatrix slitting my throat didn't make me as afraid as it should.

But one small flick of the blade renewed my fear enough to force the answer out of me.

"Weasley's house?" Bellatrix gasped. "Why, thank you, Draco. You have served your Dark Lord well."

The blade left my neck, and her heels clicked distantly.

"I'll let your parents know, and we will inform the Dark Lord together soon," she called from where I thought the door was.

After a moment, the door opened and feel closed, and I was left alone again. Why was I still alive? I was determined not to answer her, and I thought my silence would have been enough to make her kill me, but it didn't matter anymore. It was done. I had told her information that I wasn't even sure was true, and people were going to die.

I rested on the floor for who knows how long, giving myself a reprieve. I was unbearably exhausted and bleeding. I hadn't looked at the wound on my arm, so I didn't know how bad it was, but stung horribly.

Eventually, I managed to push myself up from the floor and lean against the nearby chair. I glanced down at my bleeding arm and found that the sleeve of my blazer and shirt were torn from the wrist up to the elbow, and there was a long, red gash extending from the palm of my hand , wrapping around the Dark Mark and up to the crook of my elbow. Something slid slowly down my neck, and I reached up to wipe it off. I inspected my hand and found blood smeared on the tips of my fingers.

She had come so close to killing me.

 **To me, there had to be some explanation as to how the Death Eaters found Harry at Ron's house. They didn't know for sure where Harry was headed, and in the book they put a shield up to protect the Burrows from detection. And Dean and Seamus did host a radio station out of Hogwarts. Hope that makes sense and that you guys liked it, and I'll see you soon for Chapter 26.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Hi, guys! I'm updating a super short chapter in celebration of cancelled school! There's snow outside! And where I live, snow only happens once a year, and never a month a part, but now we've gotten two snows in just as many months. It's so weird! I'm also celebrating the ending of this fanfiction. It's not done yet, and there are plenty more updates to look forward to, but I'm writing one of the final chapters. It was so much fun to write, and I thank everyone who's reading for your continued support!**

 **We pick up exactly where we left off. Draco heard Dean and Seamus say that "Lightning has struck the Burrows." Draco figures that "Lightning" must be Harry Potter's code-name, but he keeps the information to himself until Bellatrix tortures it out of him. Now he has to deal with the aftermath.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

 **Chapter Twenty-six**

I was in a library. One of my father's libraries at that. Lucius never enjoyed reading fiction, so there was bound to be something to help me in these books.

I scanned the spines of the books resting on the shelves and found nothing until I searched higher up on the shelves.

Far out of my reach was a book about healing spells. I was too weak to get to it unless I used my wand.

I glanced around me and found it lying several feet away from me. I turned towards the chair I was leaning against and placed my uninjured arm on the cushion. I leaned towards it and tried to push myself up, but white-hot bolt of pain forced me back down. I slipped on the slick floor and fell onto my back. I groaned as my bleeding arm pulsed and burned as it hit the floorboards.

I craned my neck around as far as I could, hissing as the wound in my neck stretched and stung. I spotted my wand, carefully turned onto my stomach and used my good arm to pull myself towards it. My legs refused to work properly, so I was entirely dependent on one arm, which quickly began to ache and burn.

Whatever Bellatrix did to me must have been more than just a Cruciatus Curse.

After what felt like an eternity, my fingertips finally grazed the handle of my wand, and I instantly dragged it towards me, flooding with relief.

I pushed myself onto my back, short of breath and sweating, somehow even more exhausted than I was before. I had to wait several minutes before I could gather the strength to lift my wand towards the book I spotted ealier and mutter "Accio". Once it had floated within arm's reach, I instantly lowered my wand arm back to the floor, the book clattering down with me.

I had to rest for several minutes before I could use my shaking limbs to force myself to sit up. I crossed my legs and dragged the book into my lap and flipped it open to the table of contents, skimming over the chapters. There was one about healing deep wounds, so I turned the pages until I found the chapter and pleaded that I would be able to understand what it said.

The spell was "Vulnera Sanentur." A faint memory came to the forefront of my mind from when Snape saved my life in the lavatory after Potter and I fought. Wasn't that the spell that Snape used?

It didn't matter. Even if it wasn't, it would still help me.

Following the book's instructions, I carefully cleared the loose fabric out of the way of the gash on my arm and held the tip of my wand above it. I muttered the spell over and over again, slowly waving my wand over the gash. The blood dripping down my arm slowly retreated back into the cut, and the slit in my skin gradually sealed itself, leaving a thin, deep line where the injury used to be. The site of the wound still throbbed, but the pain had lessened significantly, and I was more awake than before.

I glanced down at the book and skimmed over the page, making sure I cast the spell correctly. It said that there shouldn't even be a scar left from the wound, but I got it close enough. A footnote on the page said that less practiced spell casters might leave a scar. At least I did it correctly.

As for the cut on my neck, it didn't seem too deep. That area is highly sensitive, so Bellatrix couldn't have cut me too deeply without slitting my throat. Maybe just a bandage?

I quickly flipped back to the table of contents and scanned it for something similar to what I had in mind. Eventually, I found the "Episkey" spell that could be used to heal minor injuries like split lips or small broken bones. As I followed the followed the book's instructions, the tip of my wand glowed a pale blue. I brought the glowing instrument near where I thought the wound on my neck was and after I held it there for a moment or two, whispered, "Episkey." It didn't even take a second for something to slither out of my wand and onto my neck, gently placing itself over the cut. Once the glow faded from the tip of my wand, I lowered it to the floor and carefully prodded the site of the cut. I found that the wound had healed over, skin replacing blood.

These spells were...light. They filled me with energy rather than making sick to my stomach. It was an odd feeling.

 **Hope you guys enjoyed, and see you on Saturday for Chapter 27!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Hey, guys! Happy Chapter 27/45+! We pick up a few hours where we left off in this chapter. Draco heals himself and carries on about his day, trying to make it look like nothing is wrong.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing. However, Loft the House Elf returns, and he is an Original Character, though I did not invent the concept of House Elves.**

 **Chapter Twenty-seven**

Just before dinner, I was ordered to bring Ollivander his meal. I swallowed deeply as I took the food tray from the Death Eater that handed it to me and quickly turned away from him. I almost ran to the cellar, anxiety from both fear and excitement mixing inside of me, but I kept my expression as neutral as possible as I approached Wormtail. He opened the barred door without a second thought and closed it behind me.

I moved slowly through the room, relaxing more and more the farther away I got from Wormtail. I watched my feet in the low lighting, the uneven floor casting odd shadows that played tricks on me, making me think that it was Ollivander.

Eventually, I found a huddled mass of fabric, cowering in the corner on the floor. I lowered myself to his level and silently placed the food tray on the floor. "Mister Ollivander," I whispered, causing him to jump.

He looked back at me over his shoulder before lowering his head back down to the ground.

"I've brought you some food." I waited a moment before carefully prodding his back. "Mister Ollivander?"

The man gave a pained grunt and shifted slightly farther away from me in response.

I sighed and reached into my suit jacket, pulling out the same book I had used on myself earlier today. I stood with both book and wand in hand and carefully stepped over the older man. The space between him and the wall was tiny, but it was enough to work with.

"Lumos," I muttered, lighting the end of my wand a bright blue.

Ollivander jumped again and looked up at me. "What are you doing?" he croaked, the hoarseness of his voice making my heart ache.

"Trying to help you." I looked him over, but even with the light of my wand, I couldn't see his injuries clearly because of his huddled position. "Can you sit up?"

Ollivander lifted himself up slightly before falling back down. I secured the book under my wand arm, leaned down and gently grabbed his upper arm, careful not to cause him any more pain. I aided him as he attempted to sit up again and leaned him against the rough wall. He groaned and sighed, but he quickly settled in a resigned sort of way.

Now that Ollivander was fully in the light, I knelt down to his level and inspected his injuries. There might be something in the book I found that could help him, too.

I looked him over and quickly flipped through the book, hoping to find something before I got caught. Eventually, I found a spell that clean up dried blood and dust. It would clear Ollivander's wounds so they wouldn't get infected, and it would allow them to heal easier on their own if I couldn't help him again.

I stood up in front of him again leveled my glowing wand at him. Ollivander flinched and shrank back into the wall.

"I promise I'm not going to hurt you," I said, getting him to look up at me with a look I couldn't decipher.

The blueish glow of my wand intensified as I thought of the spell. I followed the book's instructions and waved my wand up and down in front of Ollivander, allowing the instrument to find the dried blood and dirt. The particles eventually lifted from Ollivander's skin and floated into my wand, forming a trail in the air.

Once I felt that the spell had done its work, I lowered my wand and flipped through the book for another spell. I couldn't cover him in bandages-which would have been better considering how unpracticed I was at these healing spells. I had done Episkey before, but that was for shallow cuts and minor breaks. Ollivander's injuries were much more than minor.

I stopped turning the pages when I spotted "Vulnera Sanentur" again. I bent down closer to Ollivander to see if his wounds were severe enough for the spell, but I was interrupted by the cellar door clanging open.

"Come _on_ , Malfoy! How long does it take to give an old shopkeeper his food?" Wormtail shouted, his head poking through the door.

"Not very long at all," I called back, quickly extinguishing the light in my wand and slipping the book back into my suit. "He just looked too weak to eat on his own, and I'm making sure he's still alive." I turned my back to Ollivander to face Wormtail. "I'm sure that the _Dark Lord_ doesn't want him dead. Otherwise he wouldn't have me bringing him food."

I briskly walked away from Ollivander, shoved past Wormtail and jogged up the stairs. "Young master Malfoy?" a small voice called. I glanced down and found Loft standing awkwardly with his elbows in and his has clasped at his chest. "Loft came to inform you that your dinner is ready, sir."

"Is it just my family tonight?" I asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Could you do me a favour and tell them that I'm not hungry?" I requested, my heart becoming lighter to know that no Death Eaters were eating with us tonight.

"Are you not feeling well, sir?"

"Someone isn't." I didn't wait for a reply. I walked off and found my way to the library that Bellatrix...tortured me in earlier today.

My stomach knotted painfully as I entered, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when the door slammed shut. I breathed deeply to calm my nerves as I avoided looking at the floor. This place smelled strongly of magical cleaners that the House Elves used, but that didn't erase what had happened here a few hours ago.

I scanned the books on the nearly ceiling-high shelves. They were old and so obscured with dust that I could barely read the titles. I used the Accio charm to bring several promising books down to me and piled them in a stack on one of the small tables nearby. I had gathered five or six books before I placed my hand on the stack and Apparated to my room with them.

* * *

It was almost midnight when my father threw the door to my room wide open. I had gotten so used to him stumbling in here with a drink in his hand that the sight hardly bothered me anymore. It was an odd kind of normal.

"Thought you should know that the other Death Eaters raided the Burrows," he announced.

I jumped and dropped the textbook onto my bed, looking up at him.

"With the information _you_ provided, we were able to nearly catch Potter and his friends. The majority of the Order of the Phoenix got away, but we got a few people who were at the party they were throwing. They don't seem to know much about the Order," Lucius continued.

I took a moment to make sure that my voice was steady. "So, Potter got away?"

"Unfortunately, yes, and no one seems to know where he could have gone."

The two of us fell into a silence so quiet that it grew uncomfortable. It felt like hours before my father said goodnight and left, leaving the door hanging open. I picked up my wand and waved the door closed.

I couldn't help but smile a little at the fact that Harry got away. I don't know which of his friends went with him, but it still meant that we still had a hope in winning this War.

 **The Weasley wedding party has been broken up, school's about to start, and Draco's opening healing textbooks. What could possibly go wrong, right? *Announcer voice* See you next time for...Chapter Twenty-eight!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Hey, guys! I cannot believe that this fanfiction has made it this far! Thank you for reading!**

 **Chapter Twenty-eight**

I studied everything I could on healing magic, and in all honesty, used Ollivander as a test subject. I couldn't hurt anyone in order to practice, and I would get caught if I hurt myself. Ollivander was the most convenient way to practice, and it was unlikely that I would hurt him worse than he already was.

As his wounds steadily healed, my outlook did, too. I felt...better. Better than I have in the last two years. The healing spells were so different from the Unforgivable Curses. I actually started to think that I could contribute to the war effort in the way I wanted to. I thought that if I could fix Ollivander's wounds, I could somehow heal my own.

But as usual, I was brought back down to reality when I was ordered to bring Ollivander another meal. They gave me two trays of food instead of one, each with a full portion. I wanted to ask why, but a threatening look from my father made the question die in my throat. I bowed my head and took the trays to the cellar. Wormtail opened the barred door, closing and locking it behind me.

"Draco?" a high voice called.

The voice was a girl's. It was dreamy and sounded somewhat distracted. It was easily recognizable. "Luna?"

The petite figure of Luna Lovegood extracted itself from the shadows. She looked the same from when I last saw her, but there has a blossoming bruise on her cheek and her lip was split and bleeding.

She glided up to me and looked me in the eye. "Are you here to bring us food?"

"Y-yeah," I stuttered, still recovering from the fact that she was here.

"Thank you, Draco." She took the trays from me and retreated back into the darkened cellar.

I glanced behind me and found Wormtail standing rigidly at his post with his back to me. I moved further into the cellar and drew my wand, lighting the tip of it blue. "How did you get here?" I questioned as she handed one of the trays of food to Ollivander who was sitting on the stone bench carved out of the wall alone without the aid of a wall.

Luna turned to me as she took a seat by Ollivander and rested her tray on her lap."Some Death Eaters broke up the Weasley wedding. They took a whole bunch of people." She glanced down at her meal and picked up her spoon. "They put me in here last night."

I looked down at my feet and shifted my weight uncomfortably, guilt bubbling up in me. I told Bellatrix where Potter was. I was the reason she was here.

I glanced back up at Luna as she swallowed a spoonful of the lukewarm soup. She hissed and gently bit the bleeding part of her lip.

I sighed and took a few cautious steps forward, waiting for her to force me away, but when she didn't, I took the chance. "Let me see your lip."

Luna looked up at me curiously. "What?"

"I can fix your lip," I clarified.

"It's alright, Draco. It doesn't hurt." As if to prove it, she put another spoonful of soup in her mouth, but she winced when it leaked into her cut.

"He really can fix it, you know," Ollivander voiced, glancing at me.

Luna tensed as her eyebrows drew together.

I crouched down on the ground so that we were closer in height. "I can help you, but only if you want me to."

Luna slowly turned her gaze on me and gradually nodded.

I smiled gently asked her to turn towards me. She handed her meal to Ollivander, who took it from her and placed it on the bench between them.

I slowly cupped Luna's jaw to get a better look at her cut. She tensed a little and lifted her hand, almost grabbing mine, but she covered her action by tucking several loose strands of her white-blonde hair behind her ear.

I suppose she had a right to not trust me. According to her knowledge, I was a Death Eater out to kill her and anyone else that stood in my way, but it still hurt to know that people actually saw me as one of them.

I cleared my throat and refocused on the spell. I had spent a few days committing multiple healing spells to memory so I wouldn't have to transport the books back and forth from my room and the cellar, and luckily, Luna's cut could be repaired with one of the simple and easy to remember ones.

I gradually raised my wand and leveled it at her injury. I held my wand far away from her at such an awkward angle that it hurt my shoulder, but I still had to put her at ease as best as I could. I whispered, "Episkey." My wand's glow intensified, and the thin stream of blood coming from the cut retreated back into the cut before it sealed itself, leaving no trace that it was ever there.

The glow of my wand dimed as Luna carefully prodded her lip. She looked back to me and smiled softly. "Thank you, Draco."

I nodded and returned her small smile. "Now, let's see if I can take care of that bruise, too."

Luna turned her head to let me see the purplish bruise forming on her cheekbone. I couldn't remember any spells for bruises, but Episkey sounded like a good bet.

I raised my wand again opened my mouth to say the spell, but the door to the cellar suddenly creaked and clanged against the wall. The three of us jumped and turned in the direction of the door and found my father rushing in with the angriest of looks.

I instantly extinguished the light on my wand, got to my feet took a few steps away from Luna.

"What are you doing, Draco?" he demanded, stopping his rushed march a few feet away from me. His voice was soft, but it was still powerful enough to remind me of what he's done.

"Nothing," I answered, pleading that my voice would remain steady through my nerves. "Just doing what I was told and making sure that they can eat." It was true enough, so maybe he would go away.

"Then why did you just heal her lip and ask to heal her bruise?"

Every part of me tensed. I had to come up with some sort of explanation now, but my mind was freezing on me.

"Come with me, Draco," he ordered, taking a step closer to me.

I took an equal step away from him, tightening my grip on my wand.

"Now," he demanded as he came at me. He grasped the back of my neck and dragged me out of the cellar.

I cried out as Lucius's grip grew ever tighter, digging into the pressure points at the base of my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain as he led me to who-knows-where, instinctively trying to pry his hand away.

"What have you been _doing_ , Draco?" Lucius shouted, using his grip on my neck to throw me to the floor.

A door slammed shut, and I flipped onto my back and supported myself on my elbows.

"Healing books?" he laughed. "Out of all of the books you could have used in this library-potion books, dangerous spells, books you could have used to help the Dark Lord-you chose _healing_ books?"

His questions were more like statements, and I didn't answer them. I carefully got to my feet and held a hand out towards him to keep him at bay. Somewhere along the way, he had gotten my wand, so I was completely defenseless, but that didn't mean I couldn't try to save myself.

* * *

I woke up sprawled on my bed like someone had carelessly thrown me on it. I groaned and groggily pushed myself into a sitting position. I swung my legs over the side of my mattress and held my aching head. The fire popped behind the grate, making me jump. A sharp pain coursed through my throat as a startled gasp attempted to leave my lips.

The grandfather clock in my room chimed, indicating that another hour had passed. I looked over at it, and found that it was eleven o'clock, and a quick glance out of the window told me that it was night. Last I remember, it was almost lunch.

I remembered Luna and something about my father. He found out that I was healing her and Ollivander and dragged me away, but there was nothing after that.

A faint, brief memory of Lucius rushing at me in one of his libraries flashed in my mind. He had a wand out, and his hand was grasping for my throat.

I jumped at the memory reached my neck, suddenly feeling his hand wrap around it. I swallowed deeply to dispel the feeling, but it sent a fireball of pain down my throat. I thought water would soothe it, so I forced myself to my feet, only to be thrown back down onto my bed by a wave of dizziness so strong that my shaking legs couldn't support me.

I had to sit holding my spinning head for several minutes before it settled, but the spinning had left me sick to my stomach. Water would help both my stomach and my throat. Once I took care of those, I could focus on trying to heal myself.

I forced myself to stand again and leaned against the wall as another bout of dizziness nearly pushed me over. Using the wall, I eventually managed to limp into my private bathroom, but when I finally let go, I stumbled and fell into the sink, catching myself on the edge of the vanity.

I groaned and winced as I my throat burned and my head spun violently. I squeezed my eyes closed against the nausea rising inside of me. I put my cool hand to my head to try and stop the spinning, but it was still a few minutes before it did.

I gradually opened my eyes and caught my reflection in the vanity mirror. I looked terrible, like I was just tortured. The worst part was the bright red mark on my neck. I leaned forward, the edge of the sink pressing into my already upset stomach, and tilted my head to the side to get a better look at the mark.

Vague impressions of fingertips appeared on my skin in the better light.

My breath quickened, and my chest tightened as I stared at the mark on my throat. I backed out of the bathroom and away from my reflection.

I shut the bathroom door tightly and scanned my room for my books and wand. My wand was resting on my bedside table, but my books were nowhere to be found. The shaking of my breath spread to my hand, and the constant tremor increased to a terrible peak. I could barely grasp the edge of my comforter to throw it to the other side of the bed.

I glanced around the underside of my bed and didn't find the books of healing magic. I checked my closet, my desk, my dresser, even the inside of the grandfather clock, but I couldn't find my books.

* * *

I didn't sleep the entire night. Every time I closed my eyes, faint dreams-or memories, maybe-of my father trying to kill me startled me awake. No House Elf entered my room to renew the fire, so by the time I had officially given up on sleep, the wood was nothing but smoldering ashes, and the sun was beginning to rise.

Listening to that radio station I found a while ago seemed to help me sleep before, so maybe it would have the same effect tonight-this morning actually.

I reached under my bed and pulled the small machine out from underneath. I placed it on my bedside table and flicked the switch. The radio lit up, and the speakers filling with static. I scrolled through the stations to the same frequency as before, but the station wasn't there. There was nothing but more static. I had to find it somehow.

I didn't know why I was aching to hear Dean's and Seamus's voices. I never liked them at school. They were loud and annoying, but I suppose Seamus's tendency to blow things to smithereens without even trying was entertaining at times.

I scrolled through station after station, passing by music and news reports that were of no interest. I started to lose hope that I would find them again, a leadened ball taking place of my heart at the thought, but eventually, I found them.

"Lightning was reported to have escaped the attack along with Weasel and Brown Mane. Some people were taken prisoner, but we hope that they are being kept alive."

I thought it was Dean who said it, but it didn't matter. Hearing even one of them was enough to make me feel better.

They talked and talked about various things including Hogwarts and Snape, so I laid down and closed my eyes, hardly paying attention to them. After about an hour, I finally started to drift in and out of sleep until a change in voice made me open my eyes and stare at the radio speakers in curiosity, as if I could see who the new voice belonged to if I only stared at the radio long enough.

"And now for the list of the dead and missing," the grave but familiar voice announced. The man listed name after name that I didn't recognize, but the more I listened, the more I thought that the voice belonged to Professor Lupin. I couldn't be sure, but it sounded like him.

As the listed names continued to come, guilt grew inside of me in an equal amount. I didn't cause these people's deaths, nor did I make them disappear, but I might as well have.

After a while, who I thought was Seamus came back on. He sounded bright and excited, like he was trying to lighten the mood. "Join us tomorrow on a frequency nearby!" A whine came from the radio speakers and then faded to static.

 **See you soon for Chapter Twenty-nine!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Hey, guys! I know I just updated yesterday, but this chapter is pretty short, and I didn't want you guys to be disappointed on Saturday when this is all you got. So...Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Chapter Twenty-nine**

The next morning, Lucius's mark on my neck hadn't faded, and swallowing still burned like fire. It would fade eventually, but I had no idea how long that would take. I inspected it briefly in the mirror as I got dressed. It was still an angry, inflamed red that enveloped almost my entire throat. No one would miss it.

A pounding and demanding knock came at my door, making me jump. "Get up, Draco!" It sounded like Lucius. "As much as I would love to leave you in there, the two in the cellar need food!"

I didn't respond. I was entirely frozen, my heart pounding and hand shaking. My chest tightened painfully as I imagined him barging in here, but he never did. It took me a while to accept that he had left, even though his steps resounded through the hall outside, as if he was marching away.

After a moment longer, I was able to relax enough to finish getting dressed. I had only slept for about three hours last night, and instead of sitting around, I decided to get dressed, trying to avoid exactly what had just happened.

* * *

"Here," Lucius said, sliding two trays of food towards me on the kitchen counter.

I took the trays and quickly turned away from him, taking a step forward.

"Draco," he called. There was a note of warning in his voice that was strong enough to make me stop and tense. "Wand."

I slowly turned back to him and found him staring at me pointedly with his hand out and palm open. I put one of the trays back onto the kitchen counter and reached into my blazer, taking my wand out of my inside pocket. My hand shook as I offered it to him. He ripped it from my grasp and looked at me in a way that made me lower my head.

I took the tray of food back from the counter and walked away from him.

* * *

"Are you alright, Draco?" Luna asked as I handed the food trays to her. At least she didn't look any worse-for-wear. "When your father dragged you off, I thought that-"

"I'm alright," I interrupted, wanting to avoid all talk of my father.

"Then why is there a red mark on your neck?" she asked in her distinctive, high voice.

Her question made me freeze, so when I didn't answer, she walked away and moved to Ollivander, who was still sitting on the same bench as yesterday, and handed him his tray of food.

"I've always like your name," Luna commented as she lowered herself onto the bench. "It means 'dragon', you know. And Draco has always been my favourite constellation."

I gave her a fake smile in return for the compliment, and the three of us fell quiet. I knew I had to leave them and go back upstairs, but leaving would mean facing Lucius again, and my stomach flipped at the thought.

"If you have something you need to get off of you chest, Draco, we wouldn't mind," Luna voiced, turning to Ollivander as he nodded.

"I think he hates me," I heard myself say. I tensed again, glancing behind me.

"You mean your father?" Ollivander asked.

"I don't think he does," Luna contradicted. "Despite what most people think, _the opposite of love is not hate. It's indifference. So if your father hates you, I think, that at his core, he loves you_ (1)."

I raised my head to look at her to see if she was lying, but she wasn't. The expression she had gave the impression that she wasn't even capable of a lie.

A knock echoed on the metal of the barred door, and I turned to see Wormtail staring in through the bars. "If you're done talking…"

* * *

My family and I ate breakfast in complete silence. I sat as far away from Lucius as decorum would allow. I hardly looked up from my plate, though I could still feel his eyes on me, gradually burning holes into my clothes.

As soon as the House Elves came to clear the table, I rose from my chair and briskly walked out of the dining room. Footsteps followed after me, and my heart raced, images of Lucius coming after me springing to the forefront of my mind.

I quickened my pace until I was practically running. I finally made it to the relative safety of my room and moved to shut the door as tight as possible. I still didn't have my wand. I would be entirely powerless to stop him from doing anything.

A pale hand slapped the wood of the door and forced it back open. I backed away from the door as quickly as I could.

My mother rushed in and shut the door behind her. "Are you alright, Draco?"

I had to take a moment to get my breath back. "I-I'm fine."

"Then come here," she said softly, taking my hand and gently guiding me towards the bed.

She sat us both down on the mattress and drew her wand. "Let me see it. The mark on your neck."

I hesitated but eventually put my head back to let her view Lucius's mark in a better light.

She put her hand on my hairline to keep my head back as she leveled her wand at my neck. "I'm sorry he did this to you."

"I didn't realise that healing Luna and Ollivander could be considered wrong."

"If they weren't the Dark Lord's prisoners and you a Death Eater, it wouldn't be," she answered.

The two of us fell quiet as Mother healed my burning neck. The constant throbbing in my throat gradually ebbed so that I wouldn't wince every time I swallowed. After a while, my mother removed her hand from my head, allowing me to see her frightened and guilty expression.

"If you want to be a Healer, that's fine," she assured. "But you can't be one for the Dark Lord's prisoners." With that, she got up and left, leaving me alone again.

Once the door fell closed behind her, I moved to my private bathroom and inspected my neck. The red mark had faded to pink, and though the skin was still irritated and slightly raised, the mark was much less noticeable.

 **(1)This is a quote I found from Tom Hiddleston describing Loki's relationship with Thor. Some of the words are altered for the purpose of this fanfiction, but I did not come up with the entire phrase on my own.**

 **Hope you all liked it! Keep a look out on Saturday for Chapter 30!**


	30. Chapter 30

**Guys, guys, guys! Early update in celebration! I have finished this fanfiction! There are officially going to be 50 chapters! Final stats are: 233 pages in my Google Drive and 124,202 words. I'm so proud of myself. Thank all you guys for reading! Expect updates to get more irregular but more frequent. I might just update because I get board from now on, but Saturdays are always going to be update days. Yay!**

 **In this chapter, months go by, and we reach the end of Deathly Hallows part one.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Chapter Thirty**

Lucius gave me my wand back, and life returned to normal for months. The only differences were that I avoided Lucius as much as possible, and I turned the radio on every night, falling asleep to the various familiar voices that came on the air. Half the time I couldn't think of their names, but I could almost always come up with their Houses. It was mostly Gryffindors who came on the air, but there were a few Hufflepuffs, the occasional Ravenclaw, and even one or two Slytherins.

Lucius demanded that I give him my wand every time I delivered food to Luna and Ollivander. I talked with them as much as time would allow, and though it wasn't much, it seemed to lift all of our spirits.

The library I got the healing books from was constantly locked, and whenever I approached the doors to the library, I felt like Lucius was lurking behind them, daring me to open them.

As winter came and Christmas passed without a thought, I almost got used to having my own father stare me down and speak so softly that it was menacing. Everything was an awkward and terrible version of normal until my mother came into my room. It was just past midday when she opened my door without knocking. I jumped and turned Dean's and Seamus's radio station off, putting down whatever book I was reading.

"We need you in the parlour above the cellar," she demanded.

"Why?"

"We think we've got 'im," she answered, knocking the wind out of me with her words. "But we can't be sure, so we need you to make sure that it's him before we call the Dark Lord."

Mother turned and walked out of my room, and I was obviously meant to follow, but I was too stunned to move. They couldn't have captured Potter. He's been on the run for months. What changed?

Mother's head popped back through the doorway. "Let's go!"

I couldn't stall her, so I got up from my bed and followed her out, adrenaline and fear making my hand shake.

I had to lie. If it was him, I had to lie, but I would get caught if I did. I would be surrounded by Lucius, Mother, Bellatrix and who knows how many other Death Eaters. I might not be able to lie without giving myself away.

My thoughts froze the instant the door to the parlour were opened, revealing who was behind them. Lucius was lurking in a corner with a drink in his hand standing near Bellatrix who was supporting a man on his knees. She had the tip of her wand pressed into his neck. He looked vaguely familiar, but I wouldn't be able to tell who he was until I got closer.

"Come on," Mother whispered, taking my arm and dragging me into the room.

As I moved into the room, a several of Snatchers caught my eye, standing guard near a girl in a jean jacket and a tall red-haired boy. I glanced behind me as I passed them and found them to be Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

My heart froze, and I was so afraid that I almost stopped walking. But I forced myself to look forward again, using everything I had to keep my fear out of my expression. If they were here, Potter definitely was. He had to be the man Bellatrix was threatening, but his face was so distorted that I couldn't really tell.

"Well?" Bellatrix yelled, pulling the man's head back by the hair.

"I can't be sure," I quickly muttered, pleading that it wouldn't be Potter. It was a terrible thing to wish for, but I hoped that Weasley and Granger had abandoned Potter or that they had split up.

"Draco," Lucius's distinctive voice whispered. His hand grabbed the back of my neck, his tense fingers digging into the pressure points. "Look closely, son."

The stench of alcohol radiated off of his entire being. I strained to keep my expression neutral and prevent myself from recoiling against the sharp pain in my neck. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard that it threatened to burst from my chest.

Lucius pushed me forward a few steps, but instinct made me resist him. "If we are the ones to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything would be forgiven. All will be as it was, you understand?" he explained. There was a note in his voice that made me think that he didn't mean You-Know-Who would forgive our family.

My resolve cracked with his words, my mind drifting through all that had happened between my father and I recently. All could return to the way it was before I was a Death Eater if I told him the man was Harry Potter.

If only I could believe him.

I glanced at Lucius and nodded, hoping to pacify him.

"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mister Malfoy," one of the Snatchers behind us stated.

"You dare to talk to me like that it my own house?" Lucius shouted, his voice rising with each word. I flinched at his volume but forced myself to remain neutral.

"Lucius," Mother whispered, suddenly appearing behind us and taking Lucius's arm. She led him away from me, coming to my rescue again.

"Don't be shy, sweetie," Bellatrix requested.

I glanced out of a window to the side of my aunt to have a moment to compose myself. Bellatrix gently grabbed my wrist-the same wrist she cut a few months ago-and led me closer to her. "Come over," she said, pulling me down to look the man in the eye. "Now, if this isn't who we think it is, Draco, and we call him, he'll kill us all. We need to be absolutely sure."

The man's face was so swollen that one of his eyes was entirely sealed shut. There was a large bump on his forehead that had a deep line in it that looked vaguely like the twisted form of Potter's unique scar.

"What's wrong with his face?" I asked, buying time. The man's expression was neutral, but there was a pleading in his eyes. This was Harry Potter.

I had to lie to the others, but I didn't know if I could. Just thinking about lying to them made my palms sweat and my breathing shake.

"Yes. What is wrong with his face?" Bellatrix echoed, turning to the Snatchers.

"He came to us like that," one of them answered. "Something he picked up in the forest, I reckon."

"Or he ran into a Stinging Jinx," Bellatrix suggested. "Was it you, dearie?" She gestured towards Granger with her curved wand. Bellatrix drifted towards Granger and Weasley, her black robes brushing against me, making my muscles coil like springs. "Give me her wand," she ordered. "We'll see what her last spell was."

A hand lightly tapped me on the shoulder, and I glanced up to find my mother gesturing for me to get up from the floor. With a last look at Potter, I followed her direction and allowed her to lead me towards the wall and closer to Lucius.

"Ah, got you," Bellatrix laughed, a mocking excitement on her face that dropped into shock a moment later. She stared at a ragged and long-haired Snatcher, her gaze fixated on the gleaming gold and red sword in his hand. "What is that?" she gasped. "Where'd you get that from?"

"It was in her bag when we searched her," the Snatcher answered, a proud smirk twisting his mouth. "Reckon it's mine now."

Bellatrix didn't wait for any further information. She threw a wild spell at the Snatcher which pushed him back, the sword flying from his hand. Bellatrix caught the hilt of it expertly as a second Snatcher shouted, "Are you mad?"

My aunt rounded on him and with a wave of her wand, summoning a snake that coiled around his throat and squeezed. Another of the Snatchers rushed at her, raising his wand, but Bellatrix was too fast for him. She summoned a black ribbon of rope that readily wrapped itself around his neck. Bellatrix yanked her wand downward, pulling the Snatcher down with it. Bellatrix grasped the end of the rope and dragged the Snatcher closer to my parents and I before rapidly raising the rope up and throwing it back down, wiping the Snatcher attached to the other end.

"Go! Get out!" my aunt shouted at the top of her lungs, looking around like a wild animal escaped from her cage.

The two Snatchers got up unsteadily and stumbled towards the door.

"Cissy, put the boys in the cellar!" Bellatrix ordered, marching up to Weasley and grabbing the collar of his shirt. She dragged him away from Hermione and tossed him towards my mother. "I wanna have a little conversation with this one, girl to girl!"

Mother grabbed Potter and Weasley by the arm and forced them towards the stairs that led to the cellar. Wormtail appeared at the top, excitedly took hold of the boys and pulled them down the stairs.

Bellatrix took hold of Hermione and threw her to the floor. "Crucio!" Bellatrix shouted.

My heart jumped, and I instinctively put a hand on my core, flashes of Lucius and Bellatrix coming to mind, but I calmed when the pain didn't come.

Then I was brought lower than the floor for feeling better.

Hermione's scream tore through me like physical pain (1). The sight of her writhing on the floor and straining to get away from a pain that never left was more than enough to do me in.

My vision blurred and spun, and I stumbled back. My leg hit the back of a chair, catching my attention and making me refocus. I took deep breaths to try and disguise how shaky my breathing was now. I glanced towards the door near me and took a tentative step towards it.

The door opened and Lucius came out with a refilled drink. He closed the door behind him and looked sternly at me, giving me a quick shake of his head.

I sighed and looked anywhere but Hermione, who had finally stopped screaming. I should be glad that she did, but after Bellatrix was done with the Cruciatus Curse, she made it much worse.

"That sword is meant to be in my vault at Gringotts. How did you get it?" she hissed, holding down a limp and pale Hermione on her back. "What else did you and your friends take from my vault!" Bellatrix shouted.

Hermione was shaking her head as best as she was able, sobbing each of her barely audible words. "I didn't take anything. Please. I didn't take anything."

"I don't believe it," my aunt whispered.

Bellatrix reached over and drew out a thin and gleaming knife, opening up Hermione's left wrist. The girl writhed and screamed so loudly it pierced my heart.

My own left wrist burned with the memory of a few months ago. I gently massaged the scar to get the burning to stop, begging for something-anything-to shut out the sound of Hermione's screams.

"How did you get into my vault!" Bellatrix repeated.

Hermione did nothing but scream. I dared to glance in their direction and nearly threw up at the sight of her blood pouring from her wrist, my chest tightening and burning.

Bellatrix finally sat up and demanded to know where Hermione got the sword, but Hermione only sobbed from the pain and fear.

I've never seen Hermione cry before. She yelled, punched me and literally threw the book at her friends, but she never cried.

Granger was blinking rapidly, but Bellatrix grabbed her throat. "You don't get to escape that easily," Bellatrix seethed. Hermione gasped as her air supply was suddenly cut off, grabbing for Bellatrix's arm with her unhurt wrist.

The burning in my chest reached an unbearable level, and before I knew what I was doing, I was standing next to Bellatrix with my hand in her mane of black hair, hauling her off of Hermione.

Granger gasped again as she could finally breathe. Bellatrix glided on the material of her dress as she slid across the floor as far away from Hermione as I could manage.

Bellatrix scrambled to get up and shouted, "You dare defy me?"

I winced at her volume, my head automatically lowering as I scrambled to come up with a plausible explanation.

"Draco!" Lucius called, matching my aunt's volume, "you dare interfere with-"

"She's gonna die if you continue!" I interrupted, forcing myself to look up at Bellatrix.

"Yes, I know," she responded, taking a step forward.

I held up a hand and took an equidistant step back towards Hermione. "You-you want your information, don't you?" I stuttered, making Bellatrix freeze. "Well, she can't exactly give it to you if she's dead."

All of us fell silent as Bellatrix glanced between me and Hermione, the cogs almost audibly turning in her head.

"I can heal her," I said, forcing calm into my voice as I tried to ease her into agreeing with me.

After another moment of dead and heavy silence, Bellatrix gave a curt nod, her hair covering her eyes.

I instantly drew my wand and knelt down to Hermione. Her eyes were closed, and she was so pale that if it wasn't for the fresh blood coming out of her wrist, I would have thought she was dead. I gently shook her denim-clad shoulder to get her to open her eyes. Her eyes fluttered open, and she glanced around in confusion before her gaze found mine. Her expression filled with fear that changed to anger in a flash, and she instantly sat up and pushing back to get away from me. Her bleeding wrist gave out on her, and she fell beck with a cry, an ugly, purple and black bruise forming a cuff on her wrist.

I sighed and took a small step forward to catch up with her. "Calm down," I whispered. "I'm trying to help you."

"You can't," she slurred. "She's your aunt."

"That doesn't mean I'm like her," I said, pulling up the left sleeve of my blaiser to expose the deep scar that run the length of my forearm.

Hermione glanced from me to my wrist, her gaze lingering on on my arm for a moment. She sighed and nodded, raising herself onto her elbows. "Harry always knew you were one."

"One what?" I asked, lowering my sleeve and taking careful hold of her bleeding and bruised wrist.

"A Death Eater."

I nodded. "I know. Could you sit up for me?" I asked. I took her shoulder and helped her sit up from the floor. I gingerly prodded the bones in her wrist once she was safely sitting up, and she hissed through her teeth in response. "That hurt?" I asked, receiving a hard and curt "What do you think?" in answer.

The bumps of the small bones in her wrist caught my attention. It seemed like they were out of place, dislocated. I was no Madame Pomphrey, and I didn't know how to effectively fix this with magic yet. I would if Lucius hadn't taken away my books. One thing I did remember reading is the Muggle way to fix it, and if Hermione, Ron and Harry got away from this place, she could get a real Healer to repair the rest.

"I knew Harry suspected me," I said, distracting Hermione as I slowly and carefully took hold of her wrist. "Why do you think I avoided everyone Sixth Year?"

"Because you were betraying Wizard Kind to work for You-Know-Who?" she retorted.

I froze in the middle of my actions and looked up at her, an all too familiar and sharp pain piercing my heart. "Look. I didn't do this on impulse. It's not like you can walk into a tattoo parlour and say 'oh, hey, guys. Can I get a Dark Mark on my wrist?'" I corrected, saying exactly what I've been wanting to say for the past three years.

"Then why did you?" Hermione pressed.

I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment as I refocused on her wrist. "I thought that-"

"What's taking so long, Draco?" Lucius's unforgettable voice hissed in my ear, a hand gripping the back of my neck.

I tensed so tightly that I had to force myself to loosen my hands and not hurt Hermione's wrist further. "Her wrist is dislocated," I answered through clenched teeth. "I can fix it, but it's going to take a minute. Then there's her cut."

"It sounds like a fairly minor problem," Lucius berated, his gripping me tighter.

I reflexively winced, flashes of half-remembered and pain-filled moments coming to the forefront of my mind. "Well, I would be able to fix it faster if you hadn't locked the library."

Lucius let out a huff, briefly overwhelming me with the stench of spilt alcohol before shoving me away. I stumbled and instinctively tightened my hold on Hermione's wrist for stability, making her wince in response.

I regained my footing as Lucius walked away. "Sorry," I said, letting go of Hermione's wrist.

"It's fine," she dismissed.

I gingerly took her wrist again and gently prodded her skin to find the displaced bones again. Once I found them, I looked up at her and watched as she tried to keep the pain out of her expression.

She caught my gaze and looked as if she was analyzing me. "Does he hurt you?"

"No," I answered a little too quickly. "He doesn't," I said in a calmer voice.

Hermione sighed and nodded after a moment. "How'd you know my wrist is dislocated?"

"Here." I took her other hand and placed her fingers where the bones were out of place. "Those bumps right there. The bones of your wrist are out of place."

She took her other hand back, and I grasped her wrist firmly, preparing to pop it back into place.

"How do you know how to fix it?"

"You're not the only one who's been reading," I answered, scrambling to come up with something else to say. "I'm no Madame Pomphrey, but I can fix it. It'll still hurt, and you'll need a real Healer when you get out of here, but I can help now."

"Yeah. If we ever-"

I twisted her wrist and popped it back into place, receiving a sharp scream from Hermione. She ripped her wrist from my grasp and cradled it to her chest.

"Sorry," I said. "Heard it hurt less when it's a surprise."

"Yeah? Well, that advice sucks," she hissed.

"I still need to see your wrist, though," I said softly, holding out my hand. "It's still bleeding."

Hermione glanced down at her blood-covered wrist and looked almost ashamed. She closed her eyes and turned her gaze away from me before thrusting her arm towards me.

I took careful hold of her forearm and gently pulled her hand closer to me, finally catching what Bellatrix had carved into her. _Mudblood_.

I drew my wand with a sigh, trying to recall the healing spells I knew. "I'm sorry I called you this. I was twelve and angry with Potter. I didn't mean what I said."

I watched her face and gagged her reaction, but there was almost none. Hermione opened her eyes and looked at me but said nothing.

I refocused on the bleeding word carved into her skin and recited the spell in my head. The fresh blood drew back into her wound, the skin beginning to seal itself. She's going to have this word scarred into her wrist forever, and there was nothing I could do for that. I hadn't read anything about making scars disappear.

"That's enough, Draco!" Bellatrix shouted, charging up to us. She raised her wand and threw a spell at Hermione and me, shoving me away from her.

I scrambled to my feet as Bellatrix marched back towards Hermione, leaning over her. "I'll ask you again," she hissed, "how did you get into my vault?"

"I didn't take anything from your vault," Hermione retorted in a voice stronger than I've heard her all day.

Why was Bellatrix so adamant about finding out what Hermione knew about her Gringotts vault? Bellatrix was rich, yes, but this seemed to be about more than her money.

And if I knew anything about Harry, Ron and Hermione, they were going to investigate exactly what was inside her vault when this was over, but security was so tight around Gringotts, now, that the only one who would be allowed into Bellatrix's vault was Bellatrix herself.

This was a major risk, and they would probably kill me for it, but if it helped Potter win this war, it would be worth it.

I put my wand away and marched up to Bellatrix leaning over a writhing Hermione and pulled Bellatrix back by the hair again. She cried out as a few strands came loose from her head as I pulled her back. "I told you that you were going to kill her if you continued," I said, forcing my voice to be firm.

"We don't have time for you to-"

"I won't heal her if you don't want me to," I interrupted. "Just give her a reprieve."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at me before slowly slinking away towards Lucius. I watched her as she started to talk with Lucius to make sure they were deep in conversation. I glanced down at Hermione and found a distant and half asleep expression on her face. I wasn't sure of what she was seeing, and I couldn't heal her mentally.

I dusted my hands off over her, wiping off the strands of Bellatrix's long black hair and walked away from her towards my mother. I had to make it at least look like I was following orders.

"Wormtail!" Bellatrix shouted.

"Yes, ma'am?" the silver-handed wizard answered.

"Bring me the goblin."

Wormtail nodded before running down the stairs to the cellar.

"What goblin?" I whispered to Mother.

"We just transferred him in today," she said. "He used to work at Gringotts."

After a moment, Wormtail returned pushing a pointy-nosed goblin up the stairs in front of him. He led the goblin towards the center of the room and forced him to his knees before resuming his station at the stairs.

"Before you get settled, Wormtail," Lucius called, "retrieve the boys that came with her." He gestured towards Hermione.

Wormtail nodded and moved back down the stairs.

"Goblin," Bellatrix called gliding towards him in the center of the room. "It's quite obvious that somehow, this girl and her two friends somehow broke into my vault at Gringotts and stole the sword hidden inside of it, but the question is how?" Bellatrix was now a foot from the goblin and was leaning down to be eye-level with him. "How could they have gotten into my vault at Gringotts?"

"No one could have broken in," the black-haired goblin quickly answered.

"I don't believe you," Bellatrix dismissed. "We have the proof that they got in right here." She gestured towards Lucius who was guarding the gold and ruby rapier. "How could they have gotten in?"

"They couldn't have," the goblin repeated. "Your vault, Bellatrix Lestrange, is one of the most secure in all of Gringotts. There is no way in except the front door, and the one entering has to submit their wand for inspection and identification. Then they would have to take one of the goblins down to the tunnels and through a waterfall meant to dispel all magic. Then they need to get passed the dragon we have guarding vaults near yours. Then they need a goblin's hand to open your vault. I have no idea how they could have gotten passed any of it without being caught."

Bellatrix's breathing grew labored, her chest expanding and contracting with the deepness of her breaths. A vein in the side of her neck stood out as she slowly opened her mouth. "I'm going to ask you once more, goblin," she hissed. "Think very, very carefully before you answer.

"I don't know," the goblin said again, his voice firm.

"You don't know? Why weren't you doing your job?" Bellatrix questioned, her voice rising steadily again. "How did they get into my vault? They stole it. They got in. How?"

"When I was last in your vault, the sword was there," the goblin said slowly, almost calmly.

"Oh, well, then perhaps it just walked out on its own, then!" Bellatrix sarcastically dismissed.

"There's no safer place than Gringotts," the goblin insisted.

"Liar!" Bellatrix shouted, her silver knife appearing in her hand and ripping itself across the goblins cheek, leaving behind a thin red line.

The goblin tensed slightly, but he didn't even hiss from the pain. He looked back at Bellatrix with calm defiance in his black eyes. I admired him for it. In the times I have seen Bellatrix since she tortured me, I haven't been able to look at her. I don't know what they've done to this goblin, but he was still braver than I was.

There was a reason I wasn't placed in Gryffindor.

"Consider yourself lucky, goblin," Bellatrix whispered, blowing a thick strand of her black curls into his face before standing back to her full height and turning her back to him. "The same won't be said for this one," she said as she slinked back towards Hermione.

Bellatrix stood above Granger and raised her wand, her lips parting to form a spell. My hand flew to my own wand, and I drew it out.

"Expelliarmus!" a voice shouted at the top of his lungs.

I glanced in the direction of the voice and found Ron Weasley charging up the stairs with his wand drawn, Potter right behind him.

Bellatrix's wand was torn from her hand by the spell and flew into Harry's open hand. Lucius took up his walking stick and ripped his silver snake head from it only to find that his wand was missing, like it has been since the summer.

"Stupefy!" Potter yelled, throwing Lucius back into the cushioned chairs near our hearth.

Potter and Weasley instantly started throwing spells towards Mother and me. They were probably simple stunning spells, but my mind was moving too quickly for me to identify them.

Most of the pair's spells seemed to be aimed at me. I blocked them repeatedly, pleading for an break in their bombardment. Once there was a break, I could get to them. Change the direction of my blocking spells to protect them from the spells from my mother and Bellatrix that would come sooner or later.

Wait. Why wasn't my aunt throwing spells?

"Stop!" Bellatrix commanded, as if reading my mind. Everyone froze at her shout. "Drop your wands."

I turned my head and found Bellatrix supporting a pale Hermione and holding a knife to her throat. Bellatrix smirked and pressed the knife harder into Hermione's neck, causing beads of blood to form under the blade and leak down her neck.

My hand began to shake so hard that I nearly dropped my wand. My heart hammered, and I couldn't breath. She was going to kill Hermione? She couldn't. Harry and Ron would be dead in a week without her.

"I said drop 'em!" Bellatrix repeated, Weasley instantly letting his go at the new threat. "Pick 'em up Draco. Now!"

The volume of her voice made me jump, and a twitch of her knife forced me to pick up the dropped wands. I looked at Ron as I stood back to my full height. He glared at me in return. I opened my mouth to say something, but it slipped my mind in the same moment. I bowed my head at his glare and moved away from them.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here," Bellatrix breathed as she marched Hermione forward. "It's Harry Potter. He's all bright and shiny and new again, just in time for the Dark Lord."

I glanced at Potter and found that whatever was wrong with him before had apparently worn off. The swelling had reduced entirely and his eye had opened again, allowing his usual defiant glare to shine through.

"Call him," Bellatrix ordered with a grossly pleasant smile.

Everyone, including Harry and Ron, looked to me. Lucius walked up and stared at me icily, but I still didn't move. I didn't raise my arm and roll up my sleeve. I wouldn't call him. I would never call him.

But Lucius didn't care. He shook his head at me slightly and walked passed me. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding as he passed, my limbs flooding with relief. Lucius lifted his arm and peeled back the layers of his robes from his wrist, one by one. Everyone's breathing grew audible as his coiling Dark Mark was revealed. It flexed on his skin as his fingertip hovered over it.

But he froze as a high-pitched squeaking reached our ears. We each looked up to find a House Elf holding onto the chain of the chandelier and turning a piece of it until the light fixture broke loose from its chain and plummeted towards the floor, right on top of Bellatrix and Hermione.

I dove forward for her. I was not letting Hermione die now.

But Bellatrix threw Hermione away from her, both of them narrowly avoiding the chandelier as it crashed into the wood floor with a deafening shatter. I stumbled backwards as glass and crystal flew in every direction, several pieces stinging my skin. I tripped over the leg of one of the chairs and fell into it. I glanced around for Hermione to see if she was okay.

Harry appeared near me and took hold of the three wands I was gripping. He pulled and pulled on the wands, but I couldn't let them go. He would take my own, and I would have nothing to protect myself if he took it. Nothing to heal with. But his determined grip was stronger than my panicked one, and he quickly ripped the three wands away from me, taking my protection with him.

Lucius stood back up and rushed at Potter, but Harry held up the three stolen wands and shouted, "Stupefy!" delivering a three-way stunning spell that threw Lucius off of his feet.

"Stupid Elf!" Bellatrix yelled as Harry, Ron, Hermione and the goblin gathered together with the same House Elf that dropped the chandelier. Bellatrix got to her feet, glass and crystal glinting in her wild hair. "You could've killed me!"

"Dobby never meant to kill," the Elf squeaked.

Dobby? Wasn't he one of our old House Elves that Lucius accidentally freed? Now that Elf was attacking us to defend Potter? That Elf named Dobby was a thousand times better and braver than I was.

"Dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure," the ex House Elf finished, repeatedly clasping and unclasping his hands.

Mother grunted as she raised her wand and waived it above her head, readying a powerful spell, but Dobby snapped his fingers and, with a spark, plucked my mother's wand from her fingers.

"How dare you take a witches wand!" Bellatrix shouted as Dobby caught my mother's wand, staring at it almost in surprise. "How dare you defy your masters!"

Dobby lowered the wand and looked up at Bellatrix with narrowed eyes. "Dobby has no master. Dobby is a free Elf. And Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!"

There was a conviction in his voice that made me smile and glance at Bellatrix out of the corner of my eye. If a House Elf can nearly kill Bellatrix Lestrange, I can get out of here.

Dobby dropped my mother's wand and held out his scarred hands. The trio of friends and the goblin took hold of Dobby's hands, and their form instantly blurred, turning to nothing but mist. The colours of their clothes mixed like water thrown on fresh ink before collapsing in on itself and disappearing, taking Bellatrix's sharp knife with them.

 **(1) This is a quote that is actually from the Deathly Hallows book that was describing Harry's perspective as he was listening to Hermione in the cellar. I never thought of Harry and Draco as opposites but as two sides of the same coin.**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed and see you Saturday!**


	31. Chapter 31

**Hey, everybody! Each time I tried to submit this chapter to my Doc Manager, it said that there was some kind of error. I got scared that I wouldn't be able to update today, but I eventually figured it out. I had to copy/paste over a different chapter and submit it. Hopefully no one needs Chapter 14 anymore! Haha! Anyways. Without further adieu, I give you Chapter 31.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing**

 **Chapter Thirty-one**

I rushed towards where Potter, Weasley and Granger vanished with Dobby and the goblin. There was no sign of them. The House Elf must have Apparated them to who knows where. But the knife…

I looked behind me and found Bellatrix straightening her posture with a satisfied and evil smirk on her lips. "Any sign of them, Draco?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"What did you do?" I shouted before I could stop myself. "That knife could have killed them!"

Lucius raised an eyebrow at me, his eyes, for once, clearing from his drunken haze.

Bellatrix scoffed. "Well, that was the idea, Draco."

I clenched my jaw to keep me from saying anything else. I was done with everything here. Nearly killing Hermione for no reason was the last of what I'm willing to take. I'm tired of pretending like I believe.

I bent down and picked up my mother's wand from where Dobby had dropped it. I don't know where they went, but I knew enough about Apparating that I thought if I concentrated on Harry, Ron and Hermione hard enough, I could get to them.

"Draco," a soft voice called. I glanced up from Mother's wand to find Lucius approaching me with his shaking hand outstretched. "I know that directly attacking people you used to go to school with can be confusing, but you're not thinking clearly."

He placed his hand on my shoulder, but I brushed it off, throwing his hand back at him. "Get off!" I ordered, an unfamiliar sense of excitement and pride at my action swelling in my chest.

Lucius froze, his hand hanging in the air for a moment before he lowered it. "Draco, you just need to calm-"

"Shut up!" I yelled, taking a few steps out of his reach. "I'm done."

"Wh-What do you mean 'done'?" Lucius wondered. "The Dark Lord will be very-"

"I mean done with him," I interrupted. "I never believed in him. I'm done with him." My heart raced, and my stomach churned as I said the next words. "And I'm done with you. Lucius."

"You dare to-" he roared, but I cut him off by raising my mother's wand.

I aimed directly at his heart and took a few more steps away from him. I had to keep them at bay until I got far enough away so that I could Apparate without their interference, and the fact that I was the only one with a wand helped tremendously.

My heart raced with my breathing, and my stomach was turning in every direction possible. Half of me thought I was insane for doing this, and the other half thought that this was the greatest I've ever been.

"Drop the wand, Malfoy!" a voice ordered behind me.

The sudden voice made me jump and turn to find an unfamiliar Death Eater slowly advancing on me, his wand drawn and trained on my chest. I adjusted my aim for the advancing Death Eater but remembered Bellatrix. She didn't have a wand, but I wasn't sure if she was more or less dangerous that way.

I had to Apparate now.

I raised my mother's wand as more Death Eaters appeared. Some of them Apparated into the room, and others came through the halls and doors that connected to it. Each of my muscles coiled like snakes, freezing my wand arm.

"I said, drop the wand, Malfoy," the same Death Eater repeated in a calmer but firm voice.

If I moved the wand another inch, they would take me down. If it was still just that one Death Eater, I'd Apparate right now, but I stood no chance against the ten who were now in the room.

Mother's wand was plucked from my fingers by a nearby Death Eater and another took each of my wrists and bound them together behind my back with a magical cord.

My excitement and pride at finally defying Lucius and the other Death Eaters instantly deflated like a popped balloon.

They would kill me, and I never helped. I never helped this war.

The Death Eaters pushed me towards the cellar steps, all of their wands trained on me, their tips practically burning holes into my back. They guided me down the stairs where an unsteady Wormtail awaited us.

"Get out of here," one of the Death Eaters ordered.

Wormtail didn't even nod. He removed his hand from his head and stumbled up the stairs, nearly falling back down them in the process.

A Death Eater kicked the door open and shoved me inside. They closed the barred door and locked it behind me. They all turned their backs on me and marched up the stairs, the cord releasing itself from my wrists and falling to the floor.

"What did you do with him!" a voice shouted from upstairs. It sounded like Mother.

"It's for his own good, Narcissa," a deeper voice answered. Lucius.

I took a few cautious steps closer to the iron bars of the door to try and hear better, but it proved in vain a cacophony of yelling broke out. It was definitely an argument, but I could only catch a few phrases.

"Just a boy!"

"Needs to learn."

"We can."

"But that's."

"Enough!" a high and harsh voice roared above the rest, silencing them all. Bellatrix. "We'll send him a message, and let him decide what to do with Draco."

Reluctant noises of agreement answered the voice and eventually quieted. Footsteps sounded and grew more and more distant until everything fell silent. I stood at the door, straining to hear anything to let me know I wasn't alone but heard nothing.

I wandered away from the barred door and paced the empty cellar. Luna and Ollivander were gone. They probably got away with Dobby and the rest of them. At least I hope they did. Bellatrix's knife was more than concerning, but all I could do was wait and plead that she missed.

At some point, I laid down on the stone bench, having already paced every square inch of the cellar twice over. My mind kept drifting through the memories of torture that the Death Eaters had subjected me to. I couldn't help but theorize about how much worse it would be now. I openly defied them all. They would kill me in the slowest possible way.

* * *

I was startled awake by a piercing pain in my chest. I cried out and instinctively grabbed for the source of the pain, though there was nothing there. My body thrashed to get away from the pain, making me slip off of the stone bench and crash to the rough floor.

The pain abruptly ended, leaving me breathless. I gasped as I gripped my side, pushing myself onto my back. I hissed with each breath, a sharp thread of pain pulsing in my side each time I breathed in.

"Good evening, Draco," a distinctive and breathy voice whispered.

I snapped my eyes open and lifted my head from the floor to find You-Know-Who himself standing over me, the tip of his wand light a bright and pale blue that stung my eyes.

But there was something off about his wand. It wasn't his usual bone-shaped one. This wand was long and straight with decorative spheres embedded into the wood. It was Dumbledore's wand.

"Oh, yes," Voldemort hissed, raising the stolen wand slightly, "the wand. It's mine, now, but it is untested. Luckily your father told me what happened. Now, I finally have someone to test this new wand on."

* * *

"Get up, Malfoy," a distant voice demanded, but it was too distant to matter. Every part of me ached and burned, but I could barely remember why. There was something hot and wet underneath my cheek. Some part of me knew it was blood, but the rest of me was left guessing. "I said get up!" the same voice yelled louder than before.

Who I thought was the owner of the voice delivered a sharp kick to my stomach that forced the air from my lungs and left my already aching torso throbbing with a steady drumbeat of dull pain.

I dragged my heavy eyes open as my hands flew to my stomach to try and quell the pain. The silhouette of a man stood in front of me, but my gaze drifted around the whole room before I found his face. I thought it was the Death Eater that threw me into the cellar but his features were so blurred that I couldn't be sure.

The figure lifted his arm. "Brought you food." Something fell out of his hand and clattered to the stone floor. I winced at the noise that made my head throb. "Be sure to eat it all. You might not get any more for a while." The silhouette turned and marched out of the cellar, closing the door behind him.

I thought about sitting up repeatedly, but the thought stopped there. It wouldn't translate to action. I took a few deep breaths and held one, forcing my torso to bend and pull me into a sitting position. The breath I held was pushed out with a shout as bolts of searing pain coursed through me. The pain almost threw me back to the floor, but I managed to stay upright and glance down at the metal tray the Death Eater had brought me. It was a small cup of broth-broth that had splashed all over the tray-and a biscuit.

Half of me suspected that it would be poisoned, but the other half of me knew that there were much easier ways to kill me, and I was starving. My throat burned with dryness. It was the same food that they gave me during my training to become a Death Eater, so it wouldn't kill me. Probably.

I took the cup broth with a shaking and blood-covered hand and took a cautious sip of it, intending to take it slow, but the moment I tasted the peppery soup, instinct took hold and I gulped down the entire cup and reached for the crumbling biscuit.

The hunger pains silenced with the food, but the rest of me was still hurting. I glanced back down at the floor and found that a small pool of blood had formed where I was laying. My suit cuff was in tatters, so it was safe to say that the rest of my clothes were, too. Drying blood coated both of my hands and my sleeves.

I tried to think back to the moments before now, but there was nothing but confusing darkness and bright pain. The blurred memories flew by uncontrollably fast. Too fast for me to make sense of anything. The only thing that was clear was that Vold-You-Know-Who had talked to me.

A wave of exhaustion so strong threw me back to the ground. I laid there and readily closed my eyes, spinning for a moment in the darkness before I lost consciousness again.

* * *

I didn't know how long had passed before the same process repeated itself: there was tremendous pain, and I woke up in a pool of my own blood, greeted by a Death Eater with the same bland food, though it was a different Death Eater every time I woke up.

If he was trying to kill me for defying him, why didn't he get it over with already? Why didn't he kill me?

* * *

 _Draco? Draco, come on. Please, wake up._ The gentle voice was enough to bring my consciousness to the surface. It would be nice to wake up to that voice instead of the Dark Lord and his pain, but that was impossible. Waking meant pain. It always meant pain.

 _Draco, please. It's just me._ She was so pleading and soft that it sounded like Mother. But there was no way that they would let her see me. Maybe I was dying and her voice was a hallucination.

There was a gentle sigh before something pointed-a wand?-jabbed itself into my chest. My heart jumped, fearing that the voice would hurt me, but it quickly slowed again.

The wand twisted in my chest and filled me with an unnatural energy. I gasped at the sudden rush, my eyes flying open.

"It's okay. It's okay," the soft voice comforted, a hand sliding onto my shoulder.

My gaze wandered to find the source of the voice and discovered my mother. Her image ran across my sight. I tried to force my vision into focus but only succeeded in exhausting myself, my eyes slipping closed again.

"No, no, no," she warned. "You need to stay awake, okay?"

I managed to get my eyes to open again, and I wanted to ask her why I needed to stay conscious, but I couldn't. The world was darkening more and more the longer I stayed awake. I didn't have the energy to ask.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am," she whispered, the tip of her wand lighting a soft blue. She waved it over me as she spoke. "If you hadn't defied him, you wouldn't be in this situation."

The aching beats of pain that had been constantly vibrating through my whole body slowly ebbed, something warm and pleasant taking its place. I closed my eyes again, memorizing what it felt like to not be in pain, and I couldn't wake up again.

* * *

Pain, rest, food.

Pain, rest, food.

That's the only things that happened. How long has it been since they threw me in here? Months? I never registered how dark it was in this cellar when I was bringing food to Luna and Ollivander, but I've spent so long down here that the light from the _Lumos_ spell made my eyes burn.

Mother would come by sometimes. Sometimes she would heal me or bring me extra food or water, but most times she would just hold me. She would hold me while I rested, whispering to me. Most of the time I couldn't understand anything of what she said. My mind was too distant to make any sense of it, but some of it I could make out. There was something about killing Potter and listening to the Dark Lord.

* * *

The next time I woke up, I found myself lying on my bed in my room. A dim orange light flickered on the ceiling, and it took me far too long to realize that it was firelight.

"Draco?" a gentle voice called. That voice has whispered to me often enough for me to easily recognize it as Mother's. "You're awake," she breathed, her face swimming into focus.

Water was suddenly streaming into my mouth. It was cool and soothed my throat that I didn't even know was dry.

"You're going to be exhausted for a while," Mother said, taking the water away. "I suggest you stay in bed for the next few days."

"Like I'd want to be anywhere else," I croaked, wincing at the burning in my throat.

 **Hope you guys liked this chapter, though it was pretty dark. It's sort of inspired by this writing prompt I saw on Pinterest once. Keep a look out for the next chapter to find out what they did to Draco!**


	32. Chapter 32

**Hey, everybody! Time for a new chapter! I'm updating a day early because I'm gonna be super busy tomorrow, and I didn't want to leave you guys hanging. Hope you enjoy! If you can...**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Chapter Thirty-two**

Recovery from whatever happened to me took weeks. I spent most of it sleeping, but even when I was awake, I felt like I was dreaming. Everything felt...distant, like it was happening to someone else.

The only one who helped me recover was Mother. She would bring me meals and water and even helped me stand after a while; and when I was finally strong enough to leave my room, Mother would take me around the house to make sure I wouldn't fall.

I couldn't remember all that happened in the cellar, but it must have been terrible for it to affect me for this long. Training was hard, but not even that left me like this.

* * *

"Draco?" Mother's voice whispered, a hand gently shaking me awake.

I turned over and found Mother leaning over me with a soft smile. "Hey," I mumbled, straining to keep myself from falling asleep again.

"You're going to want to get dressed."

"Why?" I wondered, barely taking in her words.

"We have a meeting in a few hours," she explained. "You want enough time to eat breakfast, don't you?"

"Okay," I breathed, forcing myself up and rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Good." She mussed my hair before standing back up and walking out of the room, closing the door behind her.

I stretched out my arms with a yawn and tossed the covers off. I got out of bed and opened the curtains. The sun was just starting to break the horizon. A quick glance at the grandfather clock in my room confirmed that it was seven in the morning.

Why would we be having a meeting this early?

It didn't matter. Mother told me to get dressed and be ready.

I walked over to my closet, and my hand turned the doorknob to open it. My arm raised up and took hold of a set of clothes. I automatically went through the normal routines of getting ready, thinking of nothing at all. After I finished, I walked out of my room, left the door open and wandered to the dining room.

"Draco," Lucius greeted, sending a flare of heated anger through me. "Glad you're feeling better." His words were still slurred, and a drink still rested on the table next to him.

I wanted to yell at him to get away from me-to go lock himself in that cellar-but one look from Mother instantly deflated my anger. I said nothing to Lucius and took a seat across from Mother.

The House Elves delivered breakfast and Mother and Lucius ate it without question. I followed Mother's lead and did the same, not tasting a single bite.

Before I knew it, breakfast was over, and the plates were cleared away.

"Draco," Mother called, getting me to look up, "come with us." Mother and Lucius stood, and I automatically stood with them and followed them out.

They led me through the halls and to the parlour above that cellar. The parlour where Hermione was tortured. Lucius closed the door behind us, and Mother took my hand and guided me to a nearby wall. I wanted to ask what was going on, but Mother put a finger to her lips, silencing the question in my throat.

Lucius appeared at our side as the indicating sound of someone Apparating emitted from the center of the room. I looked towards the sound and discovered the Dark Lord himself standing in the middle of the hardwood floor with his snake hissing at his side.

My heart pounded, picking up speed as my breathing did. It got faster and faster as my whole body started aching with a pain that the logical part of me said wasn't real.

Another hand took hold of my trembling one, and I looked up to find Mother. She glanced at me with a calming smile before looking back up at the Dark Lord. My nerves vanished instantly, allowing me to focus.

I glanced back towards the Dark Lord and studied what I could see of his expression. He looked infuriated. Though, there was something in his slitted eyes that wasn't anger, but it seemed equally strong.

The Dark Lord's snake hissed and lunged at me-the equivalent of taking a threatening step forward. I lowered my head and cast my eyes to the ground, and the dangerous pet backed away again, coiling itself into a thick loop.

Out of the corner or my eye, the Dark Lord paced the length of the floor, his robes flapping behind him. He froze after a moment, and more sounds of Apparating echoed through the room.

I looked up again to find that the parlour had filled with goblins in proper business dress, held captive by twice as many Death Eaters. The Death Eaters each threw their captured goblin to the floor and backed away, passing by us as they disappeared into another room.

"Hi, Draco," Bellatrix whispered as she passed me by. "How ya feelin'?"

An enraged scream came from the center of the room, making me jump and look towards it. The Dark Lord was waving his new wand in large, sharp arcs, wielding it like a sword. Each goblin fell to the floor again just as they got back up. Deep gashes carved away at the goblins' skin, blood pouring freely out of each cut. The goblins shrieked in pain and fear, and the Dark Lord shouted in anger.

Something hit my foot, and I looked down, finding that blood had splashed onto my shoes like a wave of water. But I didn't feel anything. The yells of both the goblins and the Dark Lord sounded so far away. There was a calm in my mind that shouldn't be there. I knew I should feel something. Fear at the Dark Lord's shouts and power of his wand, disgust at the blood, anger that he was slaughtering all of these goblins for no reason. But there was nothing.

After who knows how long, the screams of the goblins silenced and so did the Dark Lord's, replaced by the hissing of his snake.

I glanced up and instantly wished I hadn't. All of the goblins laid dead, their clothes soaked in their own blood. Their pocket squares and ties were shredded and drenched in crimson. The floor was died a dark and fresh red, staining the Dark Lord's pale and bare feet as he walked through the bodies and whispering to his snake in Parseltongue.

The Dark Lord looked over Lucius and Mother and gave me the sharpest of glances. If his glare could cut my throat it would have. His snake hissed, reached its head up and touched his fingertips, and they both Disapparated.

"Let's go, Draco," Mother demanded, taking my hand and pulling me away.

She dragged me through the halls and up the stairs. I glanced behind us, at Lucius still staring at the bodies, and found that our shoes had left a trail of bloodied prints along our path.

Next thing I knew, we were in my room, and Mother's eyes were wide with fear. "Are you okay?" she demanded.

I nodded. She sighed and drew me into her arms, holding me tightly.

"Are _you_ okay?" I wondered, though my voice sounded weak and quiet even to my own ears.

Mother nodded into my shoulder before drawing back. "I want you to stay in your room until I come and get you, okay?"

"Okay."

She turned around and paused in the doorway, looking back at me over her shoulder. She looked down and closed the door quietly.

I remained where I was for several minutes, too numb to move. I only took a seat on my bed when my legs started to ache from standing for too long.

My eyes drifted to the radio that has been sitting on my desk for several months. Dean's and Seamus's voices had helped me sleep ever since I found their station. Maybe they'd do something similar now: help me feel something towards the goblins that were just slaughtered. The numbness inside was beginning to worry me.

I reached over to the radio and flicked it on. I scrolled through every station until I found them. They were talking about Snape and Potter and all the usual things they talked about. It was mundane but better than silence.

But it didn't help anything either. I was still numb. I tried to force myself to feel something, but nothing ever came until after the sun went down.

Seamus took a break "to catch a few winks" as he put it, and Dean was left to continue the broadcast, but even he left eventually, leaving nothing but static to come through the speakers. I thought they had left the air entirely until someone I didn't recognize came on chanting, "We have a new weather report: Lightning has struck. I repeat: Lightning has struck."

"Lightning"? Potter. As far as I knew, this broadcast happened at the school because they would get caught otherwise. The school was protected in ways that almost everywhere else wasn't. What was Harry doing back at Hogwarts?

A knock sounded at my door. It was soft, but it made me jump nonetheless. "Draco?" Mother called, cracking the door open and peering through. "You need to come downstairs. The others-" She froze, her eyes finding the radio on my nightstand. "What are you listening to?"

"Lightning has struck," the boy repeated again and again.

I turned the radio off as fast as I could, though it didn't exactly matter. She already heard. "Nothing," I lied, a vain hope that she would drop the matter lightening my heart for a moment before disappearing.

Mother narrowed her eyes at the radio before sighing. "The other Death Eaters are gathering. We're moving."

"Moving where?"

"To the school." Mother left without another word.

They were going to the school? Theoretically, that's where Potter was. They were going to attack him, and even Harry Potter couldn't fend off a thousand Death Eaters on his own. He'd have Weasley and Hermione-and me if I could-but that wouldn't be enough.

I got up from my bed and followed my mother through the halls and to the dining room where all of the Death Eaters were gathered. There was barely a foot of space between any of the black-clad bodies as they milled about, discussing the plan to attack the school.

Mother grabbed my hand and dragged me through the crowd anyways, calming me as she went.

Why was she calming me so much lately? Mother was always there for me, especially after the turn Lucius had taken, but before I could still feel something when she looked at me. Now, I was forced to shut down.

Mother lead me to Lucius and stopped there, turning to me. "The Dark Lord sent me a message." She held up her wand. "If the initial attack does not draw Potter out, he's going to send in a team to hunt him down and force him out. He wants you to be a part of that team."

She took my hand and placed her wand in it, closing my fingers around it. I could only stare at her wand. The Dark Lord wanted me to hunt Potter down? I couldn't do that. Just the thought of forcing Harry into his hands made my stomach hurt.

"Draco, please," Mother asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I looked up at her, and my nervousness about the idea vanished instantly.

The Dark Mark on my wrist burned, the skin around the Mark twisting of its own accord. I hissed and grabbed my wrist with my fingertips, still keeping a hold of the wand.

Several celebratory shouts came up from the crowd of Death Eaters. "Here we go!" someone yelled, earning a cheer from everyone else.

The entire room filled with a thick black mist that pressed on every part of me, forcing the air from my lungs. The blackness cleared a moment later, allowing me to see a clearing of sharp-looking grass surrounded by trees except for the rocky hill up ahead. The Death Eaters surged forward towards the hill, taking me with them. At the crest of the highest rock, we could see the Hogwarts Castle standing before us, a mile away.

This was it. The war had reach its apex. There was a giddy excitement passing between the Death Eaters, though it eluded me.

I was scared. The icy numbness that had held me since I left that cellar had cracked. I wasn't as frightened as I should be, but it was better than feeling nothing. And the fissure in the numbness widened when the Dark Lord appeared in a swooping black mist, accompanied by Snape.

You-Know-Who held up his new wand and gave off a war cry, earning an excited cheer from the other Death Eaters.

This was it.

 **I'm evil, I know. Big cliffhanger. The Battle of Hogwarts is finally here! Chapter 33 is ten pages long in my Google Drive, so I hope it'll make up for the shorter chapter this time! See you soon!**


	33. Chapter 33

**Hello, everybody! Here's that super long chapter I promised! I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Chapter Thirty-three**

"The time is now!" You-Know-Who shouted, the other Death Eaters agreeing with him in a celebratory shout. "But we shall give them a chance. We're not monsters. Surely not all of them will side with Harry Potter." He spat the name. " _He_ is our quarry. We _will_ kill those who defend him, but there is no need to spill unnecessary magical blood. Unless their Mudbloods, of course." His laugh was so choppy and breathy that it sounded fake, but the Death Eaters covered him with laughs of their own.

The Dark Lord lifted a hand and gradually lowered it, silencing the Death Eaters. He turned towards the Castle and raised his wand towards the sky, gathering dark clouds and blocking out the moon and stars. Thunder rumbled as he held his wand to his throat. " _I know that many of you will want to fight_ ," his hissed.

The Death Eaters glowed with pride while my hands flew to my head. His voice sounded inside of my own head as if his words were my thoughts. A grating pressure built on the back of my neck as I tried to force it away.

" _Some of you may even think that to fight is wise_ ," the Dark Lord continued.

A hand slid over my wrist and gently pulled my hand away from my head. Mother leaned closer to me and muttered into my ear, "It's easier if you don't fight it."

" _But this is folly_."

Not fight? It might have been easier to not fight the Dark Lord, but that didn't mean it was better.

" _Give me Harry Potter_."

The icy numbness around my mind and heart cracked a little more, allowing me to finally feel the fear I should be. My heart raced, but I took deep breaths to try to calm it down.

" _Do this and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched_."

Part of me wished that they would comply. If they gave Potter to You-Know-Who, no one would lose their lives, but the rest of me knew that the moment Harry was killed, the Dark Lord will order Hogwarts to be razed.

" _Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have one hour_."

One hour. Just one hour until the battle began. My heart thudded against my ribs, threatening to break through.

The Death Eaters milled around, chatting with one another about the upcoming battle. From what I could hear, most of them were excited to kill the students in the school.

There were First Years in there. They were only eleven years old. They couldn't fight. I looked back up at the school, scanning the firelight that was shining through the windows of the Great Hall. All I could do was hope that anyone underage would be away from the school when the battle started.

The hour was only half over when one of the Death Eaters pointed at the school and shouted, "What're they doing?"

Lines of light were extending out of various parts of the school, creating a shield around each line. The shields expanded until they joined each other and covered the entire school.

"Sure hope the other team saw that," a Death Eater woman muttered beside me.

At least the staff was taking measures to protect the school. Maybe they got the younger students out and bought Harry time to do whatever he came to the school to do.

The end of the hour had almost arrived when Bellatrix forced her way through the crowd of thousands of Death Eaters, joining the Dark Lord at the top of the hill. You-Know-Who's eyes hadn't left the school since he sent his message. What was he waiting for? Why would he wait when he probably knew as well as I did that they weren't going to give Potter up?

The Dark Lord chuckled softly. "They never learn. Such a pity," he muttered.

"But, my lord," a Death Eater voiced, taking a small step forward. "Shouldn't we wait for-"

You-Know-Who turned his flattened face on the Death Eater and glared through his slitted eyes, causing the Death Eater to bow his head and retract back into the crowd.

The Dark Lord turned his gaze back to the school and ordered, "Begin."

Waves upon waves of spells exploded out of the Death Eaters' wands, each hitting the shield around the school with a deafening bang and a flash of white light. They refused to let up their bombardment just as I refused to raise my wand. They concentrated their spells on one part of the shield. No matter what spells the protective shield was made from, it wouldn't be able to withstand this level of power for long.

You-Know-Who suddenly gasped and threw his head back. He spent several moments taking in air as if he had been held underwater before raising his wand and shouting so loudly that his cry almost drowned out the bangs from the Death Eaters' spells. Voldemort delivered a powerful and continuous spell, drilling it into the shield around the school until it cracked. Orange-rimmed holes appeared in the shield and gradually ate away at it. By the time the Dark Lord ended his spell, the shield had disintegrated entirely.

Death Eaters from every part of the gathering took off in streams of black mist, zooming towards the school. Giants and magical creatures that the Dark Lord had recruited charged down the hill and fell upon the school. The stone of the school broke and shattered fires appearing on the grounds and reaching through shattered windows. The screams of death and war could be heard even up here.

What was this? What was I doing? I shouldn't even be here.

"Draco," my mother's soothing voice called, a hand placing itself on my shoulder. I glanced at her, all nerves and thought stopping short. "It's time. Go get him."

I automatically nodded, raised Mother's wand and Disapparated, appearing a hall that was surging with students and staff.

I couldn't get Potter alone. I needed backup to fight through the battle to get to him. I looked around, scanning the faces of students until I spotted Blaise and Goyle. I grabbed the backs of their robes and dragged them out of the river of students and pushed them into a different hall.

"What're you doing?" Goyle demanded once I let them both go.

"And where were you this year?" Blaise added.

"Doesn't matter," I dismissed. "Wanna help me capture Potter or not?"

"Heck yes!" Goyle shouted, readying his wand. "Know where he is?"

An ear splitting crack echoed through the hall, a bright orange light coming from a different corridor. The three of us ducked and moved as fast as we could away from the other corridor's entrance, narrowly dodging a spray of wood splinters and crushed stone.

Once the dreadful sound of collapse and destruction quieted, I glanced down the corridor and discovered the silhouette of a man stopping at a wall. He was the same height and build as Potter. He stood there for a moment until the stone of the wall turned to wood and metal, forming a large pair of doors. The black-haired man entered the doors and let them fall shut behind him. The double doors gradually faded back to stone once they closed.

"Wait," Blaise ordered, grabbing my arm. "What do you mean 'capture Potter'?"

I didn't answer. Is that what I said? Capture Potter?

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Blaise added.

No. I didn't know what I was doing, but I peered around the corner again, watching the last part of the doors disappear. "Come on," I demanded, two different kinds of ice-one of calm and one of panic-fighting for control.

I closed my eyes and repeated the process that became second nature last year as we stood in front of the wall. I summoned the Room of Requirement, pleading that it would lead me to Harry Potter. The doors reappeared and I habitually walked through them without waiting for Blaise and Goyle. The maze of junk inside seemed to have grown larger over the last year. The piles of lost things nearly reached the ceiling, and there more pathways then before.

"Which way?" Goyle asked.

I shrugged in answer before picking a random pathway and starting down it. I peered down every path we passed, hoping to spot Potter, but I never did.

"Draco, wait. You gotta stop and think," Blaise suggested, grabbing my shoulder. "What's Potter even in here for?"

I was about to say that I didn't know, but I stopped myself. I had to get this over with. "Just one more path."

I turned down a new path and discovered Potter leaning over something on a small table. I glanced at the other two and nodded. Goyle had his wand up in a flash, and Blaise followed his lead. I was the last to raise my wand.

"Well, well," I said, playing for time. "What brings you here, Potter?"

I couldn't deliver him to the Dark Lord. Mother asked me to, but why did I feel like I had to?

"I could ask you the same," Harry calmly returned, taking a step back from the table and facing us.

I glanced at my wand-my mother's wand. That might buy me enough time to figure out what was going on in my head. "You have something of mine. I'd like it back."

Since when does Mother asking me to do something force me to listen? I might be of age, but I'm still a teenager. I shouldn't be forced to listen to her.

"What's wrong with the one you have?" Potter asked, gesturing to my wand.

What was he doing? Was he playing for time, too?

"It's my mother's," I answered. "It's powerful, but it's not the same. It doesn't quite understand me." Was I talking about the wand or my mother now? I couldn't tell. "Do you know what I mean?"

I had to decide now. Turn on my mother and the Death Eaters and fight or comply and deliver Potter to the Dark Lord?

"Why didn't you tell her? Bellatrix." Potter wondered. "You knew it was me." He shrugged slightly. "You didn't say anything."

Why was he asking about that? Couldn't he just accept that I didn't tell her and move on? Why did he always have to analyze everything? What happened to not looking a gift horse in the mouth?

"Come on, Draco," Goyle urged, muttering in my ear. "Don't be a prat. Do it. Do it for him."

Goyle's wand shook, and he took a step forward, his excited anxiousness radiating off of him. "Easy," I calmed, glancing at him. I needed a minute to figure this out. We couldn't take him yet.

"Expelliarmus!" someone shouted, throwing the spell at me.

The bright spell hit my hand and took my wand, throwing it to the floor. It was Hermione. She and Ron had somehow found us.

"Avada Kedavra!" Goyle shouted as Blase grabbed my sleeve and pulled me back down the path we came.

"Stupefy!" Hermione returned, throwing the spell at Goyle who threw up a shield and deflected it.

I lost sight of the battle as Blaise pulled me away. Weasley roared at the top of his lungs, shouting, "That's my girlfriend!"

Blaise eventually let go of my arm, and I instantly froze in place. The icy numbness that had held me since I left the cellar was shattering, disintegrating bit by bit. Whatever You-Know-Who did to me was leaving.

I didn't have to give him Potter.

Goyle ran passed me, and I turned around to see Ron charging after him, shouting as loud as he could. "You tried to kill her!" he roared, pointing his wand at me.

I put my hands up with my palms facing him. "No, I didn't. That was Bellatrix."

"No, it wasn't. You're with them!" he dismissed.

"Come on!" I yelled back, tired of having to explain myself over and over again. "Did you even ask her what happened? And when you came out of the cellar, did I throw a single spell at you?"

Ron lowered his wand slightly before putting it back up again and taking a few steps towards me, his expression harder than stone. "I should end you now."

I put my hands down and moved so close to Weasley that the tip of his wand was nearly touching my throat. "Then do it," I sighed. "You'd be doing everyone here a favour."

Hot, orange light suddenly flared up behind me, making us both jump. Goyle was stalking towards us with his wand in the air, massive flames coiling around him and growing bigger by the second.

Ron grabbed my shirt front and shoved me down a path in the maze of junk before taking off back towards Harry and Hermione. "Goyle's setting the whole place on fire!"

A massive flame launched itself after Weasley, chasing him like a snake on the hunt. I ran in the opposite direction of the flame, but new fire sprang up down every path I turned. My legs ached from the run, my eyes and lungs burned from the thickening smoke, and sweat dripped down my face from the overwhelming heat of the fire.

I didn't know how long I ran until Blase, Goyle and I crashed into each other from three different pathways. Goyle was repeatedly flicking his wand, bright fire still spewing out of the end of it.

"You're an idiot!" I shouted at Goyle over the roaring flames, my throat burning from the smoke. "This is Frendyfire! This whole place is gonna come down!"

"Where's the door?" he yelled back, tossing his wand into the growing fire.

"I don't know!" My lungs heaved as I breathed in the raining ash, making a rough cough force its way out of my chest. "And it's not like we could get to it anyways!"

"We gotta climb!" Blaise suggested, not waiting for Goyle and me to agree. He bolted for a large pile of junk and grabbed hold, hoisting himself up.

A wall of things exploded into flame and splinters of wood next to us. Goyle and I both ducked and dodged every way we could, straining to make it to Blaise. The three of us climbed the stack of loose pieces, my heart jumping with every piece I grabbed. I couldn't pull on it too hard or it would break loose and fall, but my panic was quickly making me forget that.

The flames climbed higher and higher underneath us. I looked up to see how far above the fire this stack of junk would get us, but the black smoke consumed most of my vision.

A scream came from below, and I automatically thought that Potter got caught in the flames. I looked down, pleading for for that to not be the case, but instead it was Goyle. He fell off of the stack, grasping a chair that had come loose. He screamed all the way down until he dropped into the fire, silencing him forever.

I froze where I was. The icy numbness creeping back up on me.

"Let's go!" a voice shouted.

I looked up to find Blaise standing at the top of the pile with his hand down towards me. I took his offered hand and allowed him to pull me to the top. I looked around the place for anything to help us, but there was nothing but flames. Flames and three people on broomsticks.

The trio blasted by us, the dust and ash whipping around all the more. "This way!" one shouted.

Potter left us. I might deserve it, but Blaise doesn't. He only ever tried to help me get better. I never thought Potter could leave anyone.

The pile succumbed to both our weight and the heat, collapsing underneath us. I cried out as my heart leaped into my throat, scrambling to get a hold on anything. My hand eventually snagged something in the pile that held firm.

"You okay?" Blaise yelled over the ever increasing roar of the flames.

I nodded, trying to ask if he was okay too, but only a thick cough came out instead.

I was gonna die in here. In the room I let the Death Eaters through, killing Dumbledore. It was fitting, I suppose.

A buzzing sound rose above the roar of the flames, and I looked up to find Potter coming back. Why would he risk his life for Blaise and me?

The both of us reached for his hand, but he was moving too fast for either of us to grab hold. He glidded passed us, and the pile wobbled, threatening to topple over. I instantly renewed my hold on the stable part of the pile, gripping it until my knuckles turned white.

The three of them disappeared into the thickening smoke, and I thought that they left us again. But I have never been so glad to be proven wrong.

Harry broke through the smoke at a different angle than before and reached out his hand. I stretched out my arm as the stack pitched again. Potter's arm impacted mine and I was lifted off of the pile. I grabbed Potter's shoulders as tight as I could until I had stabilized on the thin broom. I let go and grabbed the broom as I checked behind me, overjoyed to find that Blaise had gotten onto Weasley's broom and Granger was keeping up with us.

Potter expertly maneuvered us through the falling debris. Tables and chairs exploded into splinters of wood, and pile after pile of things toppled over, joining Goyle in flames below. At last, the doors of the Room came into view, but they were blocked by a wall of fire. Granger zoomed ahead of us and drew her wand, forcing the fiery wall apart.

Potter dove us through the flames and the doors, a blast of fire throwing the broom off balance and tossing us both off. My shoulder crashed into the stone floor, a sharp pain making me hiss. I did the only thing I could do: forced myself up and ran. I got far enough away from the flames to be safe but remained close enough to keep Harry, Ron and Granger in sight, leaning against the wall and crouching behind a mass of fallen stone.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, pointing towards the base of the doors.

Weasley tossed something long and curved towards Potter who caught it and brought it crashing down towards something silver and blue. The glinting object exploded with a black fire that threw Harry off of his feet. Ron ran forward and kicked the blackened object into the Room of Requirement. The bright flames of the Frendyfire consumed it and seemed to recoil before surging forward, forming three separate faces of You-Know-Who. The doors closed at the last second, containing Goyle's fire and fading away to stone.

I finally stood and scanned the three of them. They seemed to be physically all right, but Potter was scrambling with his back against the wall and hyperventilating. Was he having a panic attack? He wrapped his arms around himself and rocked back and forth, his eyebrows drawn together, and his eyes shut tightly in fear. Ron and Hermione slowly approached Potter, watching him with the same worry that was inside of me.

Eventually, Potter opened his eyes, and he looked up at them. "It's the snake. She's the last one. The last Horcrux," he panted.

Hermione sighed, and her shoulders slumped like it was disappointing news.

Ron took a step forward and knelt down to Potter's level. "Look inside him, Harry," he encouraged. "Find out where he is. If we find him, we can find the snake. Then we can end this."

Potter swallowed deeply and sighed shakily before closing his eyes and trembling. He held himself for several minutes before shaking his head sharply and opening his eyes. He looked up at them and whispered, "I know where he is."

"Why are you looking for him?" I asked, making them all jump and turn to me. I came out of my hiding place and took a few slow steps toward them. "Shouldn't you be running the other direction?" The trio stared at me like I had grown a second head. "Look," I gestured to Harry, "You-Know-Who wants to kill you, clone you and kill you again for who knows why. You need to be as far away from him as possible."

"Why would you care?" Ron snapped, rising to his feet. "You work with them."

"I have my reasons for that," I answered, not wanting to get any further into it.

Ron raised his fist and, before I could move, connected with my jaw as hard as he could, leaving a dull throbbing pain in my tooth.

"Ron, stop," Hermione ordered as she reached for her boyfriend and took his fisted hand.

"No," I dismissed, massaging my jaw. "I deserve every bit of that." Two out of the three of them have punched me. What, does Potter want a free shot, now?

"Yeah, no kidding," Ron laughed, though the laugh was devoid of emotion. "You say you have your reasons, but until I get irrefutable proof that you're on our side, you're the enemy."

As he talked, a black figure appeared and silently raised its wand, aiming in the center of us. Acting on instinct more than thought, I grabbed the front of Ron's shirt and pulled both him and Hermione down to the floor. I snatched up his wand and got to one knee, shouting, "Sectumsempra!"

The spell connected with the Death Eater and threw him to the floor, blood seeping from his skin.

"What'd you use that one for?" Potter questioned, using the wall to get to his feet.

"I don't know," I answered, helping Ron and Hermione to stand. "First thing that popped into my head."

I held Ron's wand out to him, and he looked me up and down with a skeptical eye. "Aren't you a Death Eater?" He ripped his wand from my hand.

"If by 'Death Eater' you mean that I have a Dark Mark, yes. But if you mean I'm a monster who wants to torture people and kill Potter and any and all Muggleborns, no," I denied.

The four of us fell silent until Granger broke it by holding out my mother's wand to me. "Here."

I could only stare at it in disbelief for a moment, surprised that she would pick it up.

"What?" she said, raising a mocking eyebrow at me. "I owed you one."

I smirked from amusement for the first time in over a year. "How's your wrist?" I asked, gently taking my wand from her open hand.

"Scarred but fine," she answered.

"Wait," Ron interrupted. "What do you mean you owed him one?"

"Guys, come on!" Harry shouted. "We're running out of time."

"Then where is he?" Weasley asked, turning away from me entirely.

"At the lake in the boat-shed with Lucius Malfoy," Potter answered, looking directly at me. "Malfoy tried to persuade him to end the attack, but Voldemort hit him and said to go get Snape."

I tensed at the mention of Lucius but quickly dismissed it. He can't hurt me anymore. "Let's go, then," I agreed.

Potter and I started down the hall, followed by Ron and Hermione. We dodged debris and spells of every kind, but despite all of that, I was pleased. Pleased that I could finally help Harry in the way I wanted. Pleased that Lucius and Voldemort were far away and that I could fight on the right side.

The four of us turned a corner and ran into a team of three Death Eaters, each with their wand drawn.

"Malfoy?" a man of the group said. "You got him!"

"Actually, he got me," I retorted.

"What?" he gasped.

I raised my wand and recited the spell I vowed to never use unless a Death Eater was on the other end of it. "Avada Kedavra!"

The Death Eater fell in a flash of green light, and the other two stood staring at their fallen companion. After a moment one of them looked up and shouted, "Traitor!"

The Death Eater threw a Killing Curse at me before I could blink, but Potter reached over and blocked it while Hermione and Ron stunned the two Death Eaters left.

The four of us resumed our run towards the boathouse, but I turned to Ron and said through gasps of breath, "You do know that you're gonna have to stop stunning them, right? These guys multiply like rabbits. They're gonna keep coming. Especially since there were two waves planned."

Harry stopped in front of us and turned back to me. "Two waves of Death Eaters?" he repeated.

Ron, Hermione and I stopped and caught our breath. "As far as I understand," I gasped. "One wave of Death Eaters. Then magical creatures. Then a third wave of both."

An ear-piercing screech reached our ears. I didn't recognize it, but it wasn't human.

The four of us straightened and found the source of the animalistic cry: an army of giant, eight-legged acromantulas.

"Not the spiders!" Ron groaned, taking off ahead of us.

Harry, Hermione and I followed after him, running as fast as our aching legs would allow. We tore through the destroyed corridors, dodging fallen stones and bodies of people I didn't look at too closely.

Something impacted my side and threw me to the ground. The air instantly left my lungs, and I gasped for air, looking up for what hit me. One of the acromantulas standing on four of its hind legs, screeching at me in threat.

"Draco!" Potter called starting back towards me, but I scrambled to my feet held up a hand.

"Get to Voldemort. He's more important than me," I ordered, receiving a hesitant nod from Harry.

Potter rejoined his friends and ran through the fires and stone, fighting off multicoloured curses.

I took my aim on the creature that hit me as it charged, all eight of its hairy legs on the ground. I threw a Killing Curse at it, and it dropped to the floor instantly. Another acromantula ascended the mountain of broken stone and leaned over its fellow spider.

I took aim on the second, but it pounced on me before I could recite the first word of the Curse. The spider pinned me to the floor, my wand flying from my hand. I struggled to get out from under it, but the creature held me firm, and my shoes kept slipping on the loose pebbles and puddles of blood.

The acromantula raised up and came down on me, but before it could tear out my throat, a familiar voice shouted, "Arania Exime!" A blue light hit the creature and blasted it away. The light held the spider until its struggles stopped and its screeches silenced.

I launched for my wand and took it up from the ground before turning to find Luna standing with Longbottom, her wand raised towards the spider that nearly killed me.

"Come on, Draco!" she yelled, running to the courtyard with Neville at her heels. I didn't hesitate and followed after her.

"Glad you could make it," Luna greeted as I caught up to her.

"Yeah, well. Big battle, so I figured, 'What better time to get away?'," I returned.

"Get away from who?" Longbottom asked as we raced through the courtyard.

Luna held out a hand, stopping the two of us in the entrance of the courtyard as an unnatural cold iced over every part of me.

"Do you know how to produce a Patronus Charm, Draco?" Luna wondered, raising her wand and taking aim down the stone path that led to the school. The path was overrun with Dementors charging towards us, their mouths gaping open and ready to consume.

"Never had to," I yelled back, the Dementors' cries growing louder by the second.

"Just think of something happy, and the spell will do the rest," Luna explained. "Expecto Patronum!"

A light blue hare appeared out of the end of her wand. The little rabbit hopped away, leaving a trail of sparkling mist. The hare pounced on Dementor after Dementor, knocking them away.

"Expecto Patronum!" Neville shouted, a thick shield extending out of his wand and forcing away more Dementors.

It looked like those two could take care of the Dementors all on there own, but more and more of the black creatures surged towards us.

Think of something happy? In a time like this? I raised my wand anyways-trusting Luna more than I trusted myself-and scoured my mind for a happy memory. Healing Hermione, her giving me my wand a few moments ago, talking with Luna and Ollivander in the cellar, fighting against Voldemort. "Expecto Patronum," I muttered, fearing that my thoughts wouldn't be enough.

A thin shield came out of my wand, pushing away a Dementor or two before disappearing. I cast it again and again until it had no effect at all. There were too many for the three of us.

A large shield blasted passed us and threw the Dementors several feet away, most of them back towards where the Death Eaters and I had waited for the attack.

I turned around in surprise and found a larger man with a greying brown beard and a long coat standing with his wand out. "Thought I got them all last time," he groaned, lowering his wand before taking off.

The deafening sound of an explosion reaching us from the distance. The ground shook like there was an earthquake, and the stone fissured underneath us. Luna lost her balance and slipped off of the edge of the stone bridge with a high-pitched scream.

I instinctively grabbed for her extended arm with both hands and braced myself against the doorway. Luna might be thin, but my arms still burned in the effort of pulling her back up. The angle I had prevented me from doing it alone, and luckily, Neville was there to grab the back of my ruined suit and help me pull pull her up. The two of us managed to get Luna back onto solid ground, and I pulled her back into the courtyard. I leaned her against a wall and looked her over, focusing on the arm that I grabbed to keep her from falling.

"I'm fine, Draco!" she yelled over another boom, pushing me away.

Neville reached around us both and threw a spell at an charging Death Eater, throwing her to the floor.

"Thanks," I said.

Neville didn't react. He turned to the side and sent another spell towards a group of Death Eaters, forcing them apart.

Luna and I stood up from the wall and worked with Neville, delivering spell after spell at the Death Eaters. They blocked and returned the volley, and we did the same.

We managed to dispatch five of the ten Death Eaters in the group before thunder roared, and my wrist burned. The burning took me by such surprise that I cried out and grabbed my wrist, trying to quell the pain.

The Death Eaters froze and consequently, so did everyone else. An image of trees flashed in my mind as the pain intensified.

"What's wrong?" Longbottom asked, coming closer to me but keeping his aim on the frozen Death Eaters.

"My Mark." I undid the cuff on my sleeve, revealing my Dark Mark. The snake was writhing unnaturally on my skin, making the burning worse. "It's disgusting."

"What's it mean?" Luna wondered, glancing between me and the Death Eaters.

"He wants all of his Death Eaters to come to him," I answered.

As if on cue, the Dark Lord's voice cut through the air, his harsh whisper worming its way into my mind.

" _You have fought valiantly but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilt is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of you dead with dignity_."

His words echoed through me, making my stomach jump every way possible. I closed my eyes and put my hands to my head to block him out, though I knew it was of no use.

" _Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me_."

A weight lifted from my chest, allowing me to breath at last. I looked back at the Death Eaters and found them all turning to ribbons of black and streaking across the darkened sky towards the Forbidden Forest.

 **I'm just gonna go ahead and ask you to not judge the storyline of this fanfiction from here on out. This is purely film based, and I don't know much about post-Hogwarts. I've looked up some and incorporated it, but beyond the Battle of Hogwarts and the 19 Years Later Epilogue, we don't know much of Draco's story. I've based it entirely off of the films, how the characters are to me, and how this fanfiction has gone. Hope you all still like it with my future blunders!**

 **Until next time!**


	34. Chapter 34

**Hey, guys! Surprise! Happy Presidents' Day! I'm just updating a short-ish chapter here in celebration of this day off of school. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

 **Chapter Thirty-four**

No one moved. No one dared to for several minutes. After a moment, we were at least able to draw breath.

"Take everyone to the Great Hall," McGonagall's voice ordered from the steps of the castle.

I finally looked around, scanning the faces of those who had died. Some I recognized as Death Eaters, others as students or professors. I took deep, shaky breaths to calm my pounding heart. Part of me wished for that icy calm to return, but the rest of me was glad that I could still feel something towards the situation.

"You're a Death Eater?" Longbottom hissed, turning his wand on me.

"Yes," Luna answered, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "But never in his mind. Draco might have a Dark Mark, but he is not one of them."

Surprise, gratefulness and confusion crashed into me all at once, and I didn't know which one was the most important. I glanced at Luna and tried to smile at her, earning a small and sweet one in return.

"You're the Healer, Draco," she said. "What do you wanna do?"

I scanned the courtyard, looking passed the pools of blood and fallen stone. "Do what McGonagall said. Take the…" I swallowed deeply, "dead to the Great Hall. I'll check around for injured and see what I can do."

Luna nodded and started towards a body. "Let's go, Neville," she called back, sweeping an arm towards her.

Longbottom gave me an untrusting look before following after Luna. "How'd you know he's a Healer?" he wondered as he caught up to her.

I sighed and went in the opposite direction. I didn't know where to start. There were people everywhere, and they all looked dead. It was too overwhelming. My mind was so scrambled that the apocalyptic destruction didn't even look real,

My foot connected with something soft, and the terrible thought came that it was a body. I looked down to find a shoe. It was covered in blood and only half the size of mine. The laces were frayed and the sole was eaten away until it was almost gone.

The sight of it was enough to get me to focus. I looked up, spotted a older student and ran to her. Her tie said she was a Hufflepuff. She was pale and her clothes were tattered and bloody. I felt for her pulse in her neck, but found nothing. Her skin was stiff and cold, and no dull beat of life greeted me. I grabbed her wrist and checked again, refusing the fact I already knew. I dropped the student's wrist and got back to my feet when I failed to find her heartbeat.

I spared her a fleeting moment before refocusing and moving on. There were hundreds of more bodies to check. Almost every student and adult I got to were dead, their skin already cooling. Some were so young and their clothes so tattered that they looked like rag dolls someone had carelessly thrown onto the castle grounds.

"Help me," a weak voice groaned.

My heart jumped, lighter than it's been for months.

"Hey," the same voice called, quieter than before.

I raced towards it and found a boy with a Ravenclaw crest on his ripped jumper. A cut on his forehead was streaming crimson, and a mass of fallen debris trapped his leg. I knelt down to him and inspected his head injury. Freeing his leg would be of no use if he couldn't make it to the Great Hall and a more professional Healer.

"It's broken, isn't it," he cried, placing a hand on his leg.

"I don't know," I said, rolling my sleeves up and focusing on his cut. "We can look at it after we fix that cut on your head. What's your name?"

"Jeffrey. Jeffrey Morgan," he answered. "You?"

It was best to keep him calm, yes, but talking with him was making it hard to think. I wasn't a Ravenclaw. I couldn't memorize everything I read about healing. "Draco," I answered. "Nice to meet you Jeffrey."

The bleeding from the cut was gradually slowing, and some of the blood had already dried. I raised my wand and carefully pronounced, "Terego." The dried blood and dust lifted from his wound and streamed into my wand, disappearing.

The cut was still bleeding, and I wasn't sure if it was severe enough to use _Vulnera Sanentur._ I ran through my memory, searching for something that could help. _Episkey_ eventually came to mind. It could be used for moderate cuts and small broken bones. It might not fix it, but it would slow the bleed until he could get to the Great Hall.

I lifted my wand again and recited the spell. Jeffrey's skin knit together at the base of the cut, the bleeding slowing even more, but looking at Morgan's eyes, I noticed that they were out of focus. It could be nothing, but it was always best to check.

"What year are you, Jeffrey?" I asked lighting the end of my wand with _Lumos_.

Morgan winced and closed his eyes against the light of the spell. "Sixth."

I dimmed my wand and nodded, turning to his leg. "I'm seventh."

I couldn't see much of his leg, but from what was visible, it was already swelling. If I didn't take the weight off of his leg, he might lose it.

"What a crappy way to end school, right?" Jeffrey chuckled, his laugh gradually turning into a cough.

"Yeah," I sighed. "I'm going to lift the rock off of you leg now, okay? And I'm gonna tell you now that it's going to hurt."

Jeffrey nodded vigorously. "Just do it."

I got to my feet and aimed my wand at the stones trapping his leg. I recited the levitation spell in my mind, gradually lifting the boulder off of Morgan's leg. He cried out as I moved the stone several feet away and let it fall with a thud.

I dropped back down to floor and carefully rolled Jeffrey's pant leg, revealing swollen and purple skin and a bone that was bent at an unnatural angle. Definitely broken at the very least.

I didn't read to the part of broken bones yet. The most I could do was splint his leg and send him to the Great Hall for a better Healer.

Jeffrey hissed and leaned back on his elbows, his eyes closing.

"Hey!" I shouted in a panic. "You gotta stay awake, okay?" Jeffrey lifted his head back up and gave me a frustrated look. "I'm going to bind you leg in a splint, but that's all I can do. After that, we're going to take you to the Great Hall and get you to a Healer more skilled than me." I didn't wait for him to answer and leveled my wand at his leg, reciting, "Ferula."

A wrapping appeared out of the tip of my wand, slithered around his leg and bound it tightly.

Morgan sighed, his eyes closing again.

"What did I say about saying awake?" I snapped.

Jeffrey pulled his head back up and blinked rapidly. "Sorry. The spell helped with the pain."

"It's okay," I said, getting to my feet.

I offered my hand to Morgan, and he grasped it with both of his hands. I pulled him up, and he grunted in pain. I threw Jeffrey's arm over my shoulder to steady him and support his leg. "You good?" I asked, receiving a nod. "Let's go, then."

I guided the limping Jeffrey through the smoldering rubble of the destroyed castle, catching him when he stumbled. We limped for several minutes until I spotted an older man scanning the courtyard.

"Sir!" I shouted, getting his attention. The man ran up to us, and I recognized him as a teacher, but not anything beyond that. "Could you take him to the Great Hall?"

"Yeah," the man answered, taking Morgan's other arm.

"Get him to a Healer, and tell them that his leg is broken and he might have a concussion," I instructed, receiving a nod from the professor.

"Thank's, Draco," the Ravenclaw muttered before limping off with the professor.

I stayed long enough to make sure that Jeffrey made it into the castle before turning back around to check for any more injured. Most of the bodies had disappeared from the halls and courtyard. Other survivors must have cleared away the dead and helped the injured. The only bodies that remained were Death Eaters.

It was a terrible thought, but I couldn't help but be glad that they were dead. Less Death Eaters meant that there was a greater chance that we would win this battle.

Glass crunched under my foot, and I glanced down to find a broken camera. I bent over and picked it up, studying it. The bulb was shattered and the metal was bent and broken. I looked around to see if the owner was nearby and if they needed help.

My eyes eventually landed on a small boy in a shredded Gryffindor tie. I instantly dropped the camera and ran to him as fast as I could. I dropped to my knees beside him and checked his pulse. His skin was cold and pale. His eyes were open and glassy. There was no blood or injury except a few minor cuts.

He was already dead. I was too late. As I always was. I sighed and leaned back into the wall, my eyes prickling.

"Thought he called you all back," a recognizable voice spat.

I looked up to find McGonagall standing several feet away with her wand up. "You-Know-Who didn't call _us_ back," I returned, getting to my feet. "Just his Death Eaters."

"Malfoy?" she said, gradually lowering her wand. "I saw your Mark and thought-"

"That I was a Death Eater. I know," I interrupted, yanking my sleeves back down. "I swear. I've been answering these questions all day, so to sum up: Yes, I have a Dark Mark, but no, I'm not a Death Eater. You-Know-Who threatened both me and my family, so I became a Death Eater, but I never agreed with them. I've been fighting against them since this battle began."

McGonagall stayed frozen during my rant and placed her wand at her side when I finally finished. "Alright, then," she said. "Do you know what happened to him?" She gestured to the Gryffindor boy at my feet.

"Killing Curse, if I had to guess," I answered, struggling to keep my voice steady.

McGonagall came closer and looked down at the boy. "Colin Creevey," she muttered. The professor glanced around the broken corridor for a moment, taking deep, shaking breaths. "We should take him to the Great Hall."

McGonagall waved her wand and levitated Colin Creevey into the air, guiding his body through the debris. I followed behind her, straining to contain my monsoon of swelling emotions, but it was more difficult than staying awake when I was in the cellar.

There were shredded ties, tattered jumpers and burned House banners littered everywhere. Broken and hole-punctured trunks with snapped handles. A broken wand. A shattered picture frame with the smiling and blinking members of a large family. A small, blackened stuffed animal with its stitches torn and stuffing spilling out.

By the time we arrived at the Great Hall, my vision was blurred and my chest was tight. As soon as McGonagall laid Colin down on a blanket in the row of the dead, I retreated into a darkened corner, the farthest away I could get from everyone.

I slid to the floor and turned my back to the people in the Hall. The air turned cold, and my chest started to ache, the prickling in my eyes building to tears.

I did this. I made all of this happen. If I had refused Voldemort the moment I saw him three years ago or flew my broom faster when we were ambushing Potter or kept my mouth shut when Bellatrix was interrogating me, this battle wouldn't be happening. Colin Creevey and everyone else would be alive and healthy.

A louder wailing reached me, and half of me wanted to ignore it, but the other half of me could help it. I turned my head to find Ron and one of the twins holding each other and sobbing openly over another red-headed family member. I pleaded that it wouldn't be the other twin, but the fact that there was only one of them weeping with the rest of the Weasley family said otherwise.

My heart shattered all the more, and I buried my head in my hands.

"MIster Malfoy?" a voice called. I ignored her, not having the energy or desire to even lift my head.

A hand slid onto my shoulder, making me jump and double my grip on my wand.

"It's okay," Madame Pomphrey comforted, holding out a glass of water.

I stared at the water for a moment, not believing that it was meant for me. Pomphrey smiled softly at me and took my hand, wrapping it around the glass.

I tried to return the smile and quietly thanked her, accepting the glass. I took a sip of the water, the dryness of my throat springing to the forefront of my mind.

Pomphrey sat by me on the floor, dust flying out from underneath her dress. "I treated that boy. Jeffrey Morgan," she said.

I gulped down another mouthful of water. "Is he okay?"

"Yes. The immediate care he said you gave him saved his leg," she informed, relief nearly overwhelming me. "Where'd you learn to do it?"

"Hmm?" I muttered, taking another sip of water. This conversation was leading down a path that made my hand shake.

"Well, I didn't see you at all this year," she explained. "Not in the corridors, infirmary or the Great Hall. And as far as I know, Healer wasn't on your list of 'Things to be When You Grow Up'."

I didn't answer. I didn't know how without explaining and reliving it all.

"Are your parents Death Eaters, Draco?"

My Marked wrist turned inward, and I pressed the Mark against my leg, my heart racing.

"You need some practice, but you have the makings of a great Healer, Draco," Pomphrey approved, patting my shoulder before getting up and attending to others.

 **See you soon for Chapter 35!**


	35. Chapter 35

**Hey, guys! Here it is! The epic chapter! The final part of the Battle of Hogwarts! I hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not copyright infringement intended.**

 **Chapter Thirty-five**

"Wake up, Draco," a familiar voice whispered, a hand shaking my shoulder.

My first thought was that it was You-Know-Who come to torture me again. I violently grabbed the hand and raised my wand, curses I could use against him racing through my mind.

"Calm down. It's just me," Hermione said, her image coming into focus as I fully woke up. "We need to go. Voldemort's out in the courtyard." Granger got up and walked out of the Great Hall, joining the river of students and staff that were fit to stand.

I took a breath to calm my thudding heart before getting to my feet and following the others out into the light of the rising sun. We were greeted by an unwelcome army of black-clad Death Eaters, Hagrid's distinctive form following close behind the Dark Lord with a body in his arms.

"Who is that Hagrid's carrying?" Ginny demanded, ahead of the group. "Neville who is it?"

"Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed in answer, "is dead."

"No! No!" Ginny wailed, running forward. Her father caught her hand and held her back, pulling her into his arms.

"Silence!" the Dark Lord shouted as he swiped his wand towards us, a blast of energy cutting through all of us. "Stupid girl. Harry Potter is dead."

Potter's dead? That couldn't be. Harry can't be dead. He was the "Chosen One" as the papers so eloquently put it, so there was no way that he could be dead.

"From this day forth," You-Know-Who breathed, putting a hand to his chest, "you put your faith in me."

No one spoke on either side. My neighbours' breathing grew so laboured it was audible.

Voldemort chuckled darkly as he turned to his Death Eaters. "Harry Potter is dead!" The army laughed openly at the fact.

Harry couldn't be dead. I looked to Hagrid and scanned the body he held, pleading to find any sign of life, but I couldn't find anything from this distance. His skin was pale, there were cuts along his hands, and I couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.

But I refused to believe that he was dead. Not our-my-last hope.

"And now is the time to declare yourself," You-Know-Who announced, his arms spread wide as he turned back to us. "Come forward and join us. Or die."

No one moved. A nervous energy flowed through all of us. The silence was more deafening than the falling and burning stone of the night before.

"Draco," Lucius' thick voice called.

The sound of his voice ignited a fire inside of me that I hadn't felt for even Voldemort. I glared at him as openly as I could as several pairs of eyes turned to me.

"Draco," he repeated, reaching out for me.

I planted my feet, determined to stay exactly where I was. But my breathing shook with nerves.

My mother had made me do anything she wanted after I came out of that cellar. I looked everywhere except my mother, terrified that she could do the same now.

"Draco," she called, my nerves instantly calming. My gaze unwillingly locked onto her as I strained to see passed her.

"Come," she said.

I tore my eyes from her, looking around for anything to help me. I caught Hermione's gaze. She shook her head and mouthed, "No."

I shut my eyes against Mother's order, but the Dark Lord's sudden words made me open them again. "Ah. Well done, Draco. Well done."

I froze where I was. How did I end up here? I was supposed to be with the others.

Voldemort's cold, thin arms wrapped around my frozen form in a loose embrace. My skin crawled at his touch, and he couldn't let me go quick enough.

Mother's hand extended towards me, and it pulled me forward until she could put her arm around me, Lucius placing his hand on my shoulder. The icy calm that was holding me captive extended out of Mother's arm, overtaking me.

What was wrong with me?

I stopped where I was, preventing us from going further into the collection of Death Eaters and turned around, facing the people I just left. My mother's and Lucius' hands let go of me when I stopped, the calm instantly leaving me, but I was too surrounded to go back now.

Neville limped forward, a tattered piece of fabric clenched in his fist. The others hovering in the castle doorway shifted their weight from one foot to the other glancing back and forth from Neville to each other.

"Well, I must say I hoped for better," Voldemort mocked, earning a laugh from the Death Eaters. "And who might you be, young man?"

"Neville Longbottom," he muttered, the large, crimson cut on the side of his head glinting in the rising sun light.

The Death Eaters chuckled at the name, and Bellatrix laughed loudly, her tongue grazing her teeth.

"Well, Neville, I'm sure we can find a place for you in our ranks," the Dark Lord assured.

"I'd like to say something," Neville interrupted struggling to maintain his balance.

You-Know-Who froze in place, his long-fingered hand repeatedly clenching as he tensed. "Well, Neville, I'm sure we'd all be fascinated to hear what you have to say."

"It doesn't matter that Harry's gone," he said, making my heart jump in surprise.

"Stand down, Neville," Seamus ordered.

"People die every day!" Neville retorted firmly, turning his shoulder to the Death Eaters. "Friends. Family. Yeah. We lost Harry tonight. But he's still with us. In here." He put his hand to his chest. "So's Fred. And Remus. Tonks. All of them. They didn't die in vain." He stopped for a moment, turning back to the Voldemort. "But you will. 'Cause you're wrong." His voice was rose with each word, and the Dark Lord laughed brokenly at his statement. "Harry's heart did beat for us. For all of us! This is not over!"

Neville thrust his hand into the fabric he held and ripped out a gleaming sword.

Effortful grunting sounded in the corner of the courtyard as something impacted the ground. I turned to look only gasp in shock.

Harry Potter himself stood alive and well, his wand held at the ready. "Confringo!" he shouted, throwing a blast of fire at Voldemort's dangerous pet snake. The spell bounced off of the creature's hide and hit a wall of the courtyard, sending a spray of sparks and stone towards me.

Several Death Eaters and I ducked to avoid the stone, and my mother covered me. The Death Eaters milled around in confusion, each shouting questions to the other of how Potter could be alive. Voldemort seemed to have finally lost it as he yelled at the top of his lungs, throwing spell after spell at the retreating Harry. Several Death Eaters took off in clouds of black smoke either streaming towards the school or fleeing in any other direction.

"No!" Bellatrix shouted towards the sky. "No, come back!" She turned towards my parents and I. "Lucius! Come back! Come back and fight!"

Lucius glanced towards my mother as we both got back to our feet. Mother took my hand, that same unnatural calm extending from her touch. She led me through the confusion of the fleeing and fighting Death Eaters and took me over the stone bridge that led to the school.

This was wrong. Why was I letting her take me away from a place I didn't want to leave? A place that I shouldn't leave. Not while there were still explosions and screams.

"No," I muttered.

"It's alright, Draco," Mother comforted, placing her other hand on my arm just above my Dark Mark. "We don't have to fight anymore."

Her words were calming, but I forced their effect away. "No!" I shouted, ripping my hand from her grasp.

"We are leaving, Draco," Lucius ordered.

"Yeah. You are," I refused. "I'm staying."

"Draco," my mother began as she reached out for me.

I took a step back, remaining out of her grasp. "I told you before. I never believed in what the Da-in what Voldemort was doing. I'm done with him. I'm done with you." I looked pointedly at my former father. "And I'm done fighting on the wrong side."

My mother opened her mouth to say something, but before she could get a single drug-filled word out, I raised her wand and Disapparated, reappearing in the courtyard. No one was there firing spells and each other. The fighting had moved inside.

I ran through the doors and was instantly hit with a stunning spell. The force of the spell threw me to the floor, knocking the wind out of me. My head spun, and my vision swam briefly until an unfamiliar Death Eater stood over me.

"Always knew you were a blood traitor," he said, raising his wand. " _Avada-_ "

A flash of green light cut him off, dropping him to the floor. I forced myself up from the ground slightly and found the source of the Killing Curse. "Get a move on, Mister Malfoy!" McGonagall shouted, turning around and blocking another spell.

I didn't waste time and scrambled to my feet. I ran down the a hall until I found George Weasley, Dean and Seamus fending off a group of five Death Eaters that were advancing closer and closer to the unmoving group of three. The Gryffindors were firing off spell after spell and blocking twice as many.

I glanced up on a hunch and found that the floor above was missing large sections of stone and several more boulders were hanging on by a thread. I raised my wand and took aim at the precarious ceiling and waited until the Death Eaters were right underneath it. "Babarda!"

The stones came crashing down on top of the Death Eaters, crushing all five of them instantly.

The three Gryffindors jumped and spun around to face me. They seemed surprised more than anything else.

"Thought you went with them," Seamus said.

"I'm a teenager," I responded. "And teenagers never listen to their parents."

George smirked and ran passed me. "Come on!" he shouted.

Dean, Seamus and I followed after him, running straight into the heat of the battle. Death Eaters were casting powerful Curses at staff as aged as Slughorn and at students as youthful as third years.

A Death Eater woman threw a spell at a Slytherin girl who didn't manage to block in time. The spell threw her off her feet, blood seeping through her robes as she crashed into the stone floor.

I sent a Killing Curse streaming towards the Death Eater, hitting her dead on. I didn't pause to watch her fall and ran towards the student. She held her wounded and bleeding side, squeezing her eyes against the pain.

I grabbed her shoulders, lifted her up and leaned her against the wall into better light. The movement got her to open her eyes, and I instantly recognized her in the new lighting. "Pansy?"

Her eyes went wide with surprise. "Draco? Crabbe and Goyle told me you were Death Eater." Pansy gasped and groaned, her hand flying to her side.

"I'm going to have to lift your shirt up," I warned, not waiting for permission.

I grabbed the hem of her school jumper and gently pushed it up, revealing her wound. A deep and bleeding gash had slashed through her torso.

A hot and blinding pain shot through my shoulder. I cried out and dropped my wand, grabbing my shoulder. I brought my hand around and stared at the blood smeared along my fingertips.

"Malfoy!" Dean shouted, appearing at my side. "You okay?"

"Yeah!" I yelled back as Dean blocked an oncoming spell. "I can heal her, but I need cover."

The Gryffindor nodded and got to his feet, forming a shield around the three of us.

I reclaimed my wand and refocused on Pansy's still bleeding wound.

"Y-your shoulder," she stuttered.

"It's fine," I dismissed through clenched teeth. " _Vulnera Sanentur_."

My wand glowed a gentle blue as I waved it over Pansy's wound. The running blood retreated back into her cut, and the skin knit back together until it formed a pale, thin scar along her torso.

Pansy sighed as the pain apparently ebbed and looked down at her scar. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

I stood and offered her my hand in answer. She took it, and I helped her up. Pansy readied her wand, giving me a prepared nod and a hardened expression.

"You two good?" Dean shouted, grunting in the effort of keeping his shield up under the bombardment of spells.

"Yeah," I answered.

Dean lowered the shield and I instantly threw a Killing Curse towards a Death Eater who tried to catch Dean from the side. The Death Eater collapsed to the floor, and his neighbor glared at me with an enraged growl.

"Never thought I'd say it, but thanks, Malfoy," Dean shouted, blocking another spell.

I smirked at the comment as I blocked another spell.

An amplified roar reached my ears, and I turned to see the Death Eater who glared at me charging over his dead companion. He threw spell after spell at me in an endless stream that I could only block. They came at me so fast that there wasn't a single opening to do anything else.

The force of each spell hitting my shield sent me backwards an inch at a time, and the force got harder and harder to resist as the Death Eater got closer.

"Reducto!" the Death Eater shouted as loudly as his voice could possibly go.

The force of the spell blew through my shield and hit me in the stomach. The shield managed to neutralize the effect of the spell, but the impact was enough to push me to the ground and rip the air from my lungs.

I forced myself to lift my head in time to see the Death Eater raise his wand again. I instinctively rolled to the side, dodging the Killing Curse he sent me. The Curse impacted the ground, cracking the stone.

The Death Eater roared again and renewed his aim on me. I rolled back to dodge another Curse. The Death Eater stomped his foot on my aching torso as soon as I stopped moving. He pressed into my harder and harder, jabbing his wand into my throat. "Blood traitor," he growled.

The Death Eater was blasted off of me as he opened his mouth. George appeared above me, his wand outstretched. He sent another spell towards the Death Eater before leaning down to me and offering his hand. I took it without question, and he pulled me up.

"Thanks," I said.

George only nodded in answer and ran down a destroyed hall, firing spells down an adjacent corridor.

Pansy and Seamus backed up towards me, their wands spraying spells of all colours towards a wall of advancing Death Eaters.

"There's too many!" Seamus shouted as he blocked another Killing Curse.

I took advantage of his cover and returned the Curse to the Death Eater, throwing her the ground. That was another enemy down, but it hardly made a dent in the army ahead of us.

"Only if we take them all head on," I offered. "We need to trap them somehow. Take them all out at once."

"How do we do that?" Pansy yelled, dodging a spell and ducking a spray of stone and dust.

"This place is falling apart," I answered as I blocked a Curse, trapping its energy in the shield and pushing it back towards the Death Eater, "and we can use that to our advantage. They hate me. I might be able to draw them away and get them in a more vulnerable position. You to can collapse a wall or part of the ceiling or something. It was the first thing I did when I came back."

"And it worked?" Seamus demanded, dispatching another Death Eater.

"Took out five of them at once," I said, shielding Pansy as she stunned another Death Eater.

"But if we split up, they might break off into smaller groups and chase all three of us," Pansy cautioned.

"It's a risk we'll have to take. We're sitting ducks if we stay here," I reminded.

"I don't need Pansy's help to make something blow up," Seamus said as he shielded another spell and threw its energy back at the Death Eater who sent it. "If you two go together, more of them will follow you than me."

"We're close to the Great Hall, and last I saw it, it looked pretty pretty unstable. Let's do it there," I suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Seamus agreed, already breaking away from Pansy and me. "You two take the direct route, and I'll come in from the side!"

"Let's go!" Pansy shouted as she ran off towards the Great Hall and blocked a spell as she went.

I followed after her, ducking and dodging spells. It was all coming at me too fast. Spells and debris were flying in every direction. I had to watch both ahead of me and my feet to skirt mountains of collapsed stone before I ran straight into them.

I risked a glance behind me. The Death Eaters were catching up to us sooner than I had anticipated. I threw a _Reducto_ spell over my throbbing shoulder then picked up the pace, closing the distance between Pansy and I. A deafening boom drowned out the shots of spells and screams and showered Pansy and me with pebbles and dust.

The doors of the Great Hall came into view as the dust from my spell cleared. Pansy and I stopped, and I turned to greet the Death Eaters that we led away. They closed in on us rapidly and stopped a meter or two away.

"Why are you defending them?" one of them said. "You're one of us. You have the Mark."

I didn't know how long Seamus needed, but I figured that he could work it out on his own. Stalling for time would work best. "I might have a Mark, but that doesn't mean I'm with you."

An intense explosion rumbled above us, sparks bursting from the cracked stone. The fissures spread speedily, smaller stones already pelting the ground.

Pansy and I swiftly backed towards the Great Hall, taking shelter behind one of its open doors as a thundering tumble of rocks poured from the ceiling and buried the Death Eaters.

I raised my wand to protect us from the raining debris, but my head spun before I could raise a shield. My shoulder throbbed and my vision blurred. The world tipped, sending me into the wall.

"Draco!" someone shouted, shaking my still bleeding shoulder and sending sharp pains through my entire body. "Get up! It's Seamus!"

My eyes snapped open, and I found Pansy standing above me, pulling my arm.

"Seamus got caught in the blast!" she shouted, dragging me to my feet.

I struggled to steady myself, and I had to hold on to Pansy for support.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. Just get me to Seamus," I answered.

Pansy took my hand and led me through the battle, protecting me with shields as she pulled me along. She brought me to a pile of rubble and pulled me down to the floor. "He's in there."

My vision spun again, and I shook my head to clear the fogged mind. "Cover me while I get him out and see what healing I can do."

Pansy nodded as she blocked another spell. She turned from me and defended my back.

I found a crack in the pile of wood and stone and put my ear to it. "Seamus!" I yelled. "You okay?"

"Yeah," came a strained voice. "I've got a shield up, but I don't know how long I can hold it."

The stone pile buckled, sinking in at the top. Seamus cried out and then yelled, "I'm okay! Just getting hard!"

"Hang on! I'll get the stone off you!" I said then stood back up.

I raised my wand, forcing my vision to steady. I levitated stones from the top of the pile and moved them several meters away and letting them drop.

Pansy yelled behind me, making me jump and turn my head. Pansy was on the floor, her eyes closed and two Death Eaters advancing on me.

I lifted more of the boulders off of Seamus' shield and launched them towards the Death Eaters. They blocked the oncoming stone, but I didn't let up. I took boulder after boulder off of Seamus and sent them careening towards the Death Eaters. They struggled with my bombardment until one failed to block in time. The stone hit him in the head and pushed him into his companion. I took advantage of their prone position and levitated the last stone, dropping it on top of them both.

I didn't stop to process the blood pooling out from underneath the rocks and turned back to where Seamus was. He was laying down on his back, his eyes closed and a bleeding cut on the side of his head.

I ran to him and knelt by his side, shaking him awake. "Seamus?" He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut even more, raising his hand to his head. "You need to wake up," I ordered.

I hadn't read why, but I knew that you sleeping was the worst thing to do if you had a concussion, and based on his head wound, Seamus most likely did.

Seamus blinked his eyes and looked up at me. "Where'd the rocks go?"

At least he remembered what happened. That was a good sign. "I moved them," I explained. "Any pain?"

"Just my head."

I hovered the tip of my wand over his wound and recited _Terego_ and _Episkey_ , cleaning and partially healing the wound. It wasn't the best healing job, but it was what I could do.

"I'm gonna sit you up, okay?" I said.

Seamus nodded, and I reached under his shoulders and pulled him up. I dragged him a few feet towards a wall of rubble and leaned him up against it.

"You good?" I asked, kneeling beside him.

Seamus nodded again, and I stood back up, turning to where Pansy fell. I started towards her only to have my head spin and my feet stumble. I slipped on the loose pebbles and fell down beside Seamus. My eyes were suddenly heavy, and exhaustion burrowed deep into my bones.

"Forget about me. Are _you_ okay?" Seamus asked.

"I'm fine," I mumbled, grabbing the wall of rubble behind me and using it to force myself up.

My shoulder throbbed with each heartbeat, and blood dripped over my Mark and down my hand, leaving a trail behind me as I stumbled over to Pansy.

I kneeled down at her side and shook her shoulder. "Pansy?"

She groaned and grabbed my hand, sitting up with a gasp.

Her sudden movement threw me off balance, but I managed to catch myself with my bloodied arm. I hissed and sat down as quickly as I could to get the weight off of my hurt shoulder.

"What happened?" Pansy wondered.

"I don't know," I said, though it sounded more like a slur. "You screamed and fell down. Anything hurt?"

"You mean besides everything? No. Not really."

"They must've stunned you then," I suggested.

"Why?"

"I don't know. 'Cause you're a Slytherin?" I gestured to the crest on her school jumper.

"Or you were the one they wanted," she countered.

"Hey!" Seamus called. "You guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Pansy shouted back.

"Wait," I said, hushing her.

I listened for a minute but heard nothing. There were no screams or warcries. No booming explosions or bangs from spells. I looked around and found no Death Eaters charging towards us. It was like they all disappeared into thin air.

Seamus appeared beside us and dangled his feet off of the edge of the pile of rubble. "I think it's over."

 **The Battle has ended. Voldemort is destroyed, and all that's left for the films is the 19 Years Later epilogue. But there are still 15 chapters left in the story...Hmmmm...**

 **See you soon for chapter 36!**


	36. Chapter 36

**Hey, guys! Time for another chapter! I hope you enjoy, but I would like to reiterate that I do not know that much canon about Draco's post-Hogwarts life. I have made this fanfiction as accurate as I could, but I would like to apoligize in advance for any inaccuracies. This fanfiction is purely based on the films and the how the story-line of this fanfiction has developed.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing. There are several unnamed OC's, however.**

 **Chapter Thirty-six**

My shoulder gave a sharp and debilitating throb of pain that was enough to make me cry out and drop my wand, reaching for my shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Pansy's voice echoed.

I wanted to say that I was fine, but I was too exhausted. My whole body was heavy and aching, and my head was spinning impossibly fast.

"I'll get a Healer," someone said. I thought it was Seamus. "You keep him awake."

Retreating footsteps sounded along with yelling, that was too distant to make sense of.

"Hey, Draco," a soft voice echoed. I thought it was Pansy. "You gotta open your eyes, okay?"

I dragged my eyes open to look at her. She stood and moved in front of me, stepping off the pile of rubble we were sitting on.

"Why didn't you step to the side or something?" she demanded, a pleading tone in her voice.

"Like I could," I muttered.

Another, stronger wave of fatigue washed through me, and I put my head in my hands to steady its spinning.

"Draco!" Pansy shouted, the echo in her voice more profound than before. "You need to stay awake. Look. Madam Pomphrey's here. She can help you."

"Can you look up at me, Draco?" a calm voice asked.

The calmness in the words reminded me of my mother, so my first instinct was to do the opposite of what she asked, but I knew that my mother would never run into a battle. Not even for me.

I dragged my leadened eyes open and lifted my head slightly to find Madam Pomphrey standing over me with her wand out.

"Good," she said, turning to Seamus beside her. "Where'd you say the wound was?"

"His shoulder, I think. He's been bleeding since a Death Eater hit him with a spell," he answered.

Pomphrey nodded and looked back at me. "Can you take your blazer off for me, so I can get a better look?"

I forced myself to reach for the buttons of the suit jacket and tried repeatedly to undo them, but my hands were shaking and slick with blood.

"Here," Pansy offered, reaching for my hands.

Pansy undid the buttons on my blazer and helped me take it off. She moved it as carefully as she could, but I tried to help her by taking my arm out of the sleeve and twisted my bleeding shoulder, sending a piercing pain slicing through my entire arm.

Pomphrey rushed behind me and muttered a spell under her breath. The pain in my shoulder slowed, replacing the cold air with something warm and pleasant that gradually spread through my whole body.

The spell reminded me of all that Mother did in the cellar after Voldemort tortured me, but I was too tired to panic about it.

"Where'd you get the scar?" Pansy demanded, grabbing my Marked wrist.

I yanked my wrist from her grasp, thinking only of the Mark and not that the lack of Death Eaters probably meant the Dark Lord's demise.

"Bellatrix," I muttered, tracing the curve of the scar from the back of my hand as it wrapped around my forearm and glided into the crook of my elbow.

"You have to stop moving, Draco," Pomphrey requested.

I sighed, rested my arms on my knees and stilled.

"Heal it yourself?" Madam Pomphrey wondered. "Your scar?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. "You asked how I learned healing magic, and that's the reason. Bellatrix cut me, and no one else was around, so I grabbed a book from one of the libraries and healed myself."

"And that was your first time?"

"Yeah," I answered.

"Well, at least I wasn't your guinea pig," Pansy laughed.

Pomphrey chuckled behind me. "It was very well done for your first time."

The complement made me smile, something I hadn't felt in a while making my heart lighter.

The four of us were quiet for several minutes until Madam Pomphrey broke the silence. "You should be good now. The wound's closed up, though I don't know what spell you were hit with, so you do have a small scar."

"Thanks," I said turning slightly to look up at her.

"Not a problem, Draco."

"Great!" Seamus yelled. "Now that you're no longer dying, I'm starving. Who's up for food in the Great Hall?"

Seamus offered me his hand, and I took it, allowing him to help me up. My head spun for a moment, and I would have fallen back down if it wasn't for Seamus's support.

"I'd be careful about standing up too fast," Pomphrey cautioned. "You lost a lot of blood. You need to eat slowly and drink a lot of water."

"Also drink slowly, so I can give my body time to adjust to having fluids again and not throw up," I added, earning a smile from Pomphrey.

"Exactly," she said.

"I'm actually hungry, too," Pansy commented as she got to her feet and handed me my wand.

"Let's go, then," Seamus said excitedly, jogging off through the doors of the Great Hall.

I took my wand from Pansy and stowed it in my back pocket before I followed Seamus through the doors and was overwhelmed by the change in atmosphere. It was the same room where people laid dead and families cried together, but now there was an almost giddy sense of relief racing through the Hall. Family members greeted each other and friends hugged with smiles and laughs. Students and staff alike were being healed and getting much needed food and rest. Professor Slughorn was even babbling away telling some random story to anyone who would listen.

Seamus found his way back to me and handed me a cup of water as Pansy walked off towards a group of girls. I thanked him and we both stood awkwardly, sipping on our waters.

Meetings with Death Eaters were more than uncomfortable, but this was a whole new kind of awkward. The meetings were terrifying, but I knew what to do during those. I would keep my mouth shut and stay out of the way, but I had no idea how to react to Seamus. He had no idea what his radio station had helped me through, but I used to hate him. He was a Gryffindor and always took Potter's side, so I hated him as a child, but now? Now I had no idea what to do.

A clattering sounded outside the doors of the Hall, and my hand instantly flew to my wand as I turned towards its source. I found Filch standing with a broom, tossing stones into the pile of debris. He threw the bristles of his broom down and aggressively swept the floor, pushing loose pebbles into the mountain of stone with the most distressed expression.

I scoffed with a genuine amusement that I hadn't felt in the longest time. "Looks like Filch is stuck cleaning up your mess again."

"Ha," Seamus laughed. "Yeah. Bet he never gets tired of that."

"Seamus!" Dean's recognizable voice called.

Seamus and I both turned to see Dean running towards us from what looked to be a makeshift nursing station. Dean laughed as he crashed into Seamus and wrapped his arms around him.

"You're alive!" they both shouted.

Dean and Seamus wandered off as they talked, bragging to each other about their heroic acts during the battle.

I scanned the Hall for some place to finally sit down and found an unoccupied bench. I practically ran towards it and collapsed on top. I wanted nothing more than to pass out, but I was so overtired that I doubted I could.

I took my wand out of my pocket and studied it. It was my mother's wand. Not mine. Neither of my parents had a wand, now, and they would most likely go into hiding after all of this. Half of me wished them good riddance, but the other half still worried for my mother's safety, and I had no idea which emotion was stronger.

"You came back," Ron's voice said.

I looked up to find the usual trio of friends standing in front of me.

"Mind if we join you?" Harry asked.

I shrugged-surprised and glad that my shoulder didn't ache when I did-and gestured for them to take a seat. Ron and Hermione chose to sit uncomfortably close to each other at my side, and Harry pulled up a nearby stool and sat in front of us.

"I'm surprised you did come back," Ron said. "Thought you ran off."

"Why'd you go with them in the first place? Thought you said you never wanted to be a Death Eater," Granger questioned, lowering her voice on the last few words.

I sighed as I reviewed what happened in the courtyard, though it seemed like ages ago. "I don't know."

"It's not like they could actually control you," Potter voiced. "Or cast an Imperious Curse from that distance."

"It's a long story," I quickly dismissed, spinning my mother's wand between my fingers to keep my hand from shaking.

The three friends fell silent for a while, but Harry's head popped up as if he'd just remembered something. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wand-my wand-and held it out to me. "You still want it back?"

I glanced between my mother's wand and mine. It would be the best thing in the world to get rid of my mother's and have mine back, but… "Don't you still need one?"

Potter reached into his back pocket again and pulled out a second wand. "Mine got broken before, but it's fixed, now," he explained, holding my wand out again.

I put my mother's wand down on the bench and took mine from Harry's outstretched hand. An excited sense of relief flooded me as I grasped my wand again. It was like I had myself back. I didn't need my mother's wand anymore because I had my own.

"Wait. Hang on," I said, lowering my hand. "How could you 'fix' your wand. Wands can't be repaired with a simple mending charm."

"You won't believe us if we told you," Ron cautioned.

"Try me," I retorted.

"It was the Elder Wand," Harry answered.

"What, like from the 'Tale of Three Brothers'?" I remembered the story from when I was a kid. My father-Lucius-read it to me when I was young.

"Yeah," Granger said, leaning around Weasley to talk to me. "It's real. The wand was Dumbledore's."

"Then Snape's," I finished.

"Actually no," Ron laughed.

"What do you mean 'no'?" I wondered, surprised. "If I remember the story right, the wand's loyalty shifts to whoever killed it's last owner."

"You don't have to kill the owner. You just have to disarm him," Harry explained, giving me an odd look.

My mind drifted back to the moment in the Astronomy Tower with Dumbledore. It was only last year, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Dumbledore lifted his wand, and I disarmed him in a panic. I disarmed Dumbledore. "I was owner of the Elder Wand?"

"Well, up till I disarmed you in Malfoy Manor a few months ago," Harry said.

"So you've got the wand?" I clarified, receiving a nod from Potter. Forget not knowing how to react to spending time alone with Seamus. This was beyond strange.

"At least I would if I hadn't broken it," Harry voiced.

"You did what?" I almost shouted. "How could you do that? I know you were raised by Muggles, Potter, but I thought you would have heard the story by now."

"That's what I said when he did it," Ron agreed. "Well, minus the little rant at the end."

The four of us all exchanged looks as something almost entirely foreign bubbled up inside my chest and built to a peak, spilling over into laughter. As far as I remembered, it was the first genuine laugh I've had in years. It brought a profound sense of release, like I was letting something go that I never needed to hold on to.

The trio of friends around me grunted as their mouths thinned into a tight line. Eventually, they gave up and laughed with me.

"Never thought I'd be doing this," Ron muttered through gasps of breath and laughter.

"What?" I said as my laughter finally died down, an odd stitch pinching in my side.

"Laughing with you," Ron explained. "Not after she punched you."

"Neither did I," I sighed, feeling better than I have in years.

A group of people stormed through the doors of the Hall. They were all adults, and they had their wands out and ready. A shorter man with dark hair and skin separated himself from the group and raced up to McGonagall. The two talked in low voices for a while before the man gestured to the group that came in with him to lower their wands. The people compiled and seemed to relax.

"My apologies for our lateness," the man talking to McGonagall announced, silencing any remaining conversation. "We also had to clean up Death Eaters in the Ministry."

"Did you know about them?" Hermione whispered to me.

"I knew there were Death Eaters in the Ministry, but I thought they were all attacking the school," I answered, matching her tone.

"Does anyone know where the remaining Death Eaters ran off to?" the authoritarian man asked, glancing around the room.

"He's one," a recognizable voice said. I turned to its source and found Blaise standing off to the side, pointing at me. "He's a Death Eater. I-I saw his Mark."

I let out a huff of both disappointment and hatred. Not towards Blase, but towards myself. How could I think that everything would be okay? Voldemort might be gone, but I still had the Mark of a Death Eater, and Death Eaters would be hunted down and thrown into Azkaban.

I got to my feet as several members of the group of Aurors rushed towards me and grabbed my left wrist, exposing my Mark for all to see.

An Auror took my wand and grabbed my mother's off of the bench while another held my hands together behind my back, binding them with a burning spell.

"Mister Malfoy is not a Death Eater," McGonagall said, advancing towards me and the Aurors holding me. "He has renounced them, and he fought with us during the battle. Against them."

"Yeah. You've got to let him go," Potter agreed, getting to his feet.

"He's got the Mark," the head Auror countered. "Therefore he is a Death Eater, and he will be dealt with properly."

The man waved his hand towards the doors of the Hall, and the Aurors holding me forced me towards them.

"Sorry, Draco," Blaise called. I turned as best I could in the Aurors' hold to see him. "We can't trust you anymore." He glared at me, but it had something akin to guilt in the expression.

"We'll figure something out," Potter said, running up to me. "They can't hold you."

"They can and they will," I dismissed, the lightness in my heart evaporating like water in the sun. "It's alright."

Harry stopped in the doorway of the Hall as the Aurors dragged me into the courtyard. One of the Aurors raised her wand and Aparated us away from the school, taking me to the outside of a formidably tall building. The wall in front of us was entirely flat except for the long vertical slit that seemed to be a doorway.

I've never been to Azkaban, but I've seen pictures. It was more terrifying in person, and the unnatural, Dementor-induced fear made it ten times worse.

The Aurors led me through the thick, nearly black fog and forced me through the large door. The process of documenting me as a prisoner was quick and filled with disgusted and hateful looks directed at both me and my Mark. They gave me a card labeled "Azkaban Prison" and had five symbols on it. They pushed me in front of a camera and took two photographs of me from the front and the side. They shoved me in a small room and left guards who ordered me to undress and tossed a set of striped, grey prison clothes. I got it over with as quickly as I could, and when I was finished, they took my soiled clothes and dragged me by the arms. They literally threw me into a cell and slammed the door shut behind me.

I landed hard on the stone floor, my already aching body hurting all the more. I gasped for air until I got my breath back. After a moment, I managed to get to my feet and glanced around what would be my home indefinitely.

It was significantly smaller than the cellar the Death Eaters locked me in, but at least this cell had an actual bed. It was a cot, really, but it wasn't a bench and carved out of the wall, either. And there was a window. A barred one, and it was most definitely enforced with magic to keep me from reaching out, but a window.

The Dementors gilded through the dense, grey fog outside. Some of them lingered by my window and peered inside. The cold in the stone room deepened each time they passed, slicing through my thin prison uniform and biting straight to my bones, memories of the cellar, Lucius and Bellatrix springing to the forefront of my mind.

 **I hope you guys enjoyed, and I'll see you soon for the next chapter!**


	37. Chapter 37

**Hey, everybody! I know I just updated yesterday, but I've got a lot of college online orientation stuff to get done, so I figured that I could have a little fun and update this short chapter while I've got a moment. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything. There is an OC in this chapter named Anthea, but no copyright infringement is intended.**

 **Chapter Thirty-seven**

I was never let out of the cell. A girl slightly older than I came by and delivered bland meals through a slot on the heavy metal door. The only look outside of my cell I got was through the barred window, but the fact that I had a window quickly lost its novelty.

It was always grey. Nothing but grey and black clouds for miles. The fog concealed the ground and consumed the sun, leaving nothing but a bright spot hidden behind a misty veil.

The Dementors came by the window more and more, their mouths open and wanting. I was paralyzed by the cold they created. My breath constantly fogged in front of me, and I never stopped shaking. I took the thin, hole-riddled blanket from the cot and moved as far away from the window as possible. I curled up into a ball in the corner of the freezing room, covering myself with the blanket.

My blinked rapidly to keep my eyes from closing. I remembered enough from my reading to know that I was going hypothermic, and that the best thing for me would be to get up and move, but I couldn't. I was too exhausted.

Eventually, my eyes closed without my permission. I thought that the cold would kill me, though only a small, faint part of me cared. It was screaming at me to open my eyes again, but the rest of me was silent. I didn't necessarily want to die, but I didn't exactly care if I did.

"You need to wake up," a girl's voice insisted.

A gentle heat passed over me, and the ice that had covered my skin since I arrived cracked and melted, waking me a little.

The warmth gradually grew, dissipating the never-ending ice that had taken me. I eventually managed to open my eyes and found the girl who guarded my cell and brought me meals.

She smiled in relief and backed away a few inches. "Glad to see you awake. When you didn't get your food, I looked in, and thought you were dead."

I didn't say anything. My throat burned at each breath. The sensation was all too familiar, so I knew it was better not to talk.

"I'm Anthea," she introduced.

"...And you're Draco Malfoy," she said for me when I still didn't say anything, giving me a pleasant smile which brought some light into the dark cell.

She sighed and slid a jar closer to me. It contained a small, bright flame that put out so much heat it was almost uncomfortable, but I'd rather be unbearably hot than cold right now.

"Does your throat, hurt?"

I nodded, knowing that I needed to drink something or the burning in my throat would only get worse.

Anthea held up a steaming tin mug and offered it to me. I reached out for it, my still frozen hands shaking. I tried to grasp the mug, but my muscles were so stiff that they wouldn't even hook around the handle.

Anthea slid closer to me and helped me secure my freezing hands around the hot cup. I tipped the mug's contents into my mouth, only caring that it was warm. It turned out that Anthea brought me hot cocoa, and it thawed the inside of me as it streamed into my mouth and down my throat.

"Better?"

"Yeah," I muttered, my hoarse voice cracking as I spoke.

Anthea sat back and leaned against the wall, watching me as I sipped on the cocoa. "So, you're a Death Eater," she finally said.

"I'm not a Death Eater," I corrected, the statement becoming second nature.

"But you've got the Mark." She gestured to my exposed and scarred wrist.

"Never wanted it," I muttered, taking another sip of cocoa.

"Then why'd you get it?"

I hesitated, freezing at her question. There was no harm in answering. Answering would probably be helpful considering that the Ministry would ask me sooner or later, but the words died in my throat.

"Did you believe in him?" Anthea pressed. "You-Know-Who?"

"No," I instantly answered.

"Then, why'd you get the Mark?"

Voldemort's threats to my parents' lives and my own sprung to the forefront of my mind. My hand shook as it normally did when I thought about all that's happened, but the stiffness of my fingers prevented me from keeping a hold on the hot mug.

The tin cup clattered to the floor. The hot cocoa spilled over my hands, the sudden heat scorching my skin. I hissed, and gently wiped the rapidly cooling cocoa on the thin blanket.

"What was that about?" Anthea squeaked.

I didn't answer. Only continued to wipe off the cocoa from my burned skin.

"Well, I have to go," she said, scooping up the tin cup. "I'll be back in a few hours with dinner."

She smiled at me over her shoulder before the door opened on its own. She left me alone again, the heavy door swinging shut behind her.

* * *

I didn't know how far apart Anthea's visits were. The sun never rose or set-or at least its doing so was obscured by the constant cloud cover. I assumed that every three meals was a day, so I guessed that she came by every couple of days.

We talked about random things, though she did most of the talking. She kept me updated on everything Harry, Ron and Hermione did in the news as well as the clean up after the Battle of Hogwarts. She made jokes that were so poorly told that I couldn't help but snicker a little.

She renewed the flame in the jar and brought the usual meals but eventually, something in her visits changed, though I couldn't identify what. Each time she came, my heart was lighter, and the influence of the Dementors-the memories they brought to mind-was shoved away. I looked forward to her coming, though the end of her visits always brought me back down to reality.

Anthea asked the same question every day: why would I get a Dark Mark if I didn't want it? I ignored her question each time she asked, but eventually, the answer burst its way out of me in my irritation.

"He threatened me, okay?" I said sharply, part of me wishing that she would leave. "He threatened my life and my parents' lives."

Anthea fell silent, dropping her eyes to the floor, and it was minutes until she said anything. "That must have been hard."

"It's fine," I dismissed. "It's done, now. You-Know-Who is gone, and my parents are on the run."

"You don't know where they are, so you?"

"No. Why would I?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "Just asking." She glanced at the watch wrapped around her wrist. "Gotta go. Can't leave my shift unattended if I wanna get paid."

The comment made me smile slightly as she got to her feet.

* * *

The next time Anthea came, her mood was slightly different. She was still pleasant and polite, but she seemed lighter, like a burden had been lifted. And the time after that, she surprised me by ripping my blanket off of my shoulders.

"Hey!" I shouted, the biting, ice cold of the cell hitting me instantly. "I need that!"

"No, you don't," she retorted, tossing the hole-filled blanket towards the door.

I got up and took a step towards the blanket, but she slipped in front of me, blocking my path. She looked up at me with a challenge in her eyes that confused me. Did she want to fight or was she just having fun?

"You don't need it because I brought you this one." Anthea brought her hand out from behind her back and presented me with a thicker, cleaner blanket.

I looked at her in surprise. How could she get that for me? And why? Who would let her? My first instinct said that it was some sort of a trick, my mother coming to mind.

"You gonna take it or not?" she laughed.

I cautiously reached for the blanket in her hands, and she pulled it away at the last second with a laugh.

My hand lowered down at my side, and my gaze instinctively dropped to the floor.

"Hey," Anthea called, her voice so soft it made me nervous. "You okay?"

I nodded silently.

"Here," she sighed, suddenly thrusting the blanket into my arms. "It was just a joke. Didn't mean to send you somewhere."

I looked back up at her. "Send me somewhere?"

"You looked like you had a flashback or something. Like you mind went somewhere without you."

We were both quiet for a while before Anthea glanced at her watch like she usually did, said she had to go and left me alone in the silent cell, taking the thin, old blanket with her.

Once she was gone, I looked down at the new blanket in my arms. It was softer than the other one and actually smelled like it was washed at least once.

After a while, I wandered over to the cot and laid down on it. I had tried to sleep on it when I first got into the cell, but the cold coming in from the window was too much to bear, so I moved to the corner where I met Anthea. But now that she gave me this better blanket, I might actually be able to sleep well.

* * *

My dreams were worse than they ever were before. They came fast and blurred and were so mixed around that I couldn't make sense of them. It was like my mind took every single one of my horrible memories from when I became a Death Eater, tossed them like a salad and threw them back at me in my nightmares.

It was a relief when I was suddenly awake. I didn't register why I was awake, just that the nightmares had abruptly ended. I was shaking, and my heart was beating faster than I could keep up with.

"Are you okay?" Anthea's recognizable voice demanded. I looked up and found her standing over me, her hand on my shoulder and her eyes wide. "You were screaming."

"F-fine," I stuttered, my teeth chattering from the cold sweat that made my clothes stick to my skin. "J-just a nightmare."

I sat up on the cot to prove to her that I was okay, but she didn't seem satisfied.

Anthea didn't speak. Just studied me intently. She suddenly drew me closer to her and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

I froze and tensed at her contact. What was she doing? I didn't understand it, but the longer she held me close, the more I relaxed. There was something comforting about it. It drove the memories away.

 **Hope you guys enjoyed and see you soon for the next chapter!**


	38. Chapter 38

**Hey, guys! Another update! I got a day off of school today, so a it's time for a new chapter! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

 **Chapter Thirty-eight**

"Got some good news!" Anthea announced as she came into my cell.

"What?"

"You are getting out!"

"Wait!" I shouted, jumping up from the cot. "Really?"

"Well, not _out_ out. But you get out of the cell for a few hours," she clarified.

"Oh. Thanks for getting my hopes up." I shoved her shoulder lightly, getting her to smile a little wider. "What am I getting out for?"

"Ministry finally wants to ask you some questions about...well, everything."

"Questions? You mean interrogation, I'm sure."

"Yeah. Probably," she conceded. "Might be some Veritaserum involved, too, because of you Mark."

"That's fine," I sighed. "Not like I'd lie about it in the first place.

* * *

A few hours later, three Aurors barged into my cell and ordered me to stand. I got up from the cot and turned around for them, placing my hands behind my back. Something slithered over my wrists and bound them together. The Aurors grabbed me by the arms and roughly dragged me out of the cell. I spotted Anthea in the hall, and she gave me an encouraging smile that always filled me with an odd excitement.

The Aurors guided me through the maze of corridors and cells until they brought me out of the prison entirely. One of the Aurors raised his wand and waved it above his head as they walked me down the path. The air in front of us mistified, but it quickly cleared. The Auror raised his wand again and Disapparated, taking me and the two Aurors holding me with him.

We appeared on a Muggle street in London. Their vehicles made loud, jarring noises as they passed, clattering over the black stone of their road. The sun was so blindingly bright that I could barely see, but the heat of it was one of the most welcome things in the world.

I didn't get to enjoy the heat of the sun or the sight of a cloudless sky for long. The Aurors pulled me through the sidewalk, weaving me through crowds of Muggles. They dragged me across a street and passed a red, white and blue sign labeled _Underground_ -whatever that meant. They pushed me passed the stream of people heading into the public lavatory, guiding me to the back of the building. They stopped me in an alleyway filled with rubbish that only one door. The third Auror approached the door and forced the tip of his wand into the lock of the door. A green light consumed the door and pushed towards us. I panicked and tried to duck under the light, but the Aurors kept me firmly upright as the light touched us.

The light faded out, revealing a large, tiled hall with a deep green and gold colour scheme that I instantly recognized as the inside of the Ministry. The Aurors shoved me out of the fireplace we appeared in and guided me through the mass of people coming out of their own grates. People turned to look as we passed, latching their gazes onto my exposed wrist and giving the Aurors a wide berth. Eventually, they shoved me into a golden lift and the third Auror waved the cage doors closed. The lift moved back and down, then left and down again before stopping.

"Department of Mysteries," the voice of the lift announced.

The Aurors gave me their usual rough treatment, pulling me from the lift and dragging me through the black corridors and to another door. The third Auror waved his wand and opened the door. Whatever had bound my wrists together released me, and the other two Aurors pushed me into the room, slamming the door closed behind me.

The room was about the same size as the cell, but there was much more in it. A lamp hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room, dangling above a metal table that had one chair on either side made from the same material as the table. A large black glass was inserted into the wall, and for some reason, it was uncomfortable to look at.

A door formed next to the black glass and opened, admitting a tall man with greying hair. The door disappeared as he closed it. He gestured to the chair closer to me and said, "Why don't you take a seat."

It wasn't a good idea to refuse, so even though I was overjoyed to get out of the cell and walk somewhere that wasn't in a circle in the same room over and over again, I complied and sat down.

The man sat across from me, placing his wand on the table. "I'm Detective Inspector Blackwell."

"Nice to meet you," I sighed, already forming answers to his questions of why and how I got the Dark Mark.

Blackwell smirked without amusement and clasped his hands together on top of the table. "So. You're a Death Eater, but-"

"Nope," I interrupted.

"What?"

"I'm not a Death Eater," I repeated. "And before you say 'But you've got the Mark', I never wanted this Mark, and Voldemort threatened me and my family before and after I got it."

"Yes, that's what you keep insisting, isn't it?"

"What do you mean 'insisting'?"

"I mean that you keep saying you never wanted the Mark, but here you sit with the Mark on your wrist," Blackwell clarified. "You say that the Dark Lord threatened you and your family, but that's just your word. There's no proof of it, and don't say you scars. You could have easily gotten those in the Battle of Hogwarts."

"But the fact remains that it is the truth," I countered.

"So you say. We'll just have to make sure of it."

I glanced at the black glass behind him, suspecting that the "we" he was talking about was behind it.

The door that let Blackwell in formed again and admitted another, shorter man who walked in with a cup. He placed the cup on the table in front of me and walked back out, the door disappearing behind him.

"Drink it," Blackwell ordered.

"Veritaserum, I assume."

"If you're not going to drink it, I can get someone in here to make you," he threatened.

"No need," I said, taking the cup. "I'm not hiding anything."

I put the cup to my lips and was about to take a drink but hesitated, temporarily thinking it was poisoned. But it was pointless paranoia. There was no reason for them to poison me if they wanted information, plus the fact that they could have easily thrown me to the Dementors in Azkaban or killed me in my cell long ago.

I swallowed a mouthful of the water-potion mixture and placed the cup back down on the table. The mixture burned a little as it went down my throat, but nothing else happened.

"Ask you questions," I sighed.

Blackwell gave me an odd look before sitting back in his chair and asking me the exact questions I expected: "Did You-Know-Who-sometimes called the Dark Lord-threaten you life?"

"Yep. And tortured me when I said no."

"How did you get the Dark Mark on your wrist?"

"The Death Eaters put up some sort of shield around my house and trained me in Dark Arts magic the summer before my Fifth Year. The Mark slowly formed over time on its own and fully formed about halfway through my Sixth Year."

"If you didn't want the Mark, why did you help him?"

"He vaguely threatened my life and my parents' lives."

The interrogation went on for hours, and I told him everything. It was good to get it all out of my head and into the open, but it brought unwanted memories to mind again that made my hand shake. Blackwell hesitated at one point, and then repeated some of the questions that I gave the same answer to. His voice gradually took on a biting tone and his muscles tensed bit by bit.

"Why is your hand shaking?"

That question threw me. No one has asked me that before. "I don't actually know," I answered. "It started my Sixth Year, and it hasn't stopped."

* * *

The Auror's eagerly returned me to my cell in Azkaban as quickly as possible, ripping away the warmth of the sun. I was left alone long enough for two meals to go by before Anthea came in.

"Welcome back," she greeted. "How was the outside world?"

"Found out that the sun hurts my eyes."

She snickered quietly. "But it was worth it?"

I smiled at her and nodded, but she seemed dissatisfied.

"What're they gonna do?" she asked.

I sighed and wandered over to the cot and sat down, stalling for time. I didn't want to answer her, but the last of the Veritaserum was still in my system, so the answer bubbled up in my throat, though I clenched my teeth to bite it down. "They're going to hold a full criminal trial for me, and if they still can't get me to 'admit to being a Death Eater' they're going to use my memories as evidence."

* * *

About ten meals went by when they let me out of my cell again. Though the Aurors gave me the same unnecessarily harsh treatment as before, I was looking forward to getting out again and getting a small glimpse of the sun.

But the Aurors didn't lead me out Azkaban. Instead, they dragged me through the corridors, down a few levels and eventually released me into a room that was similar to the interrogation room in the Ministry. It had the same light fixture, table and chairs, but there was no glass pane on the wall.

A few minutes went by before a door appeared where the black glass would be. It opened, and Harry Potter walked through. The door closed behind him and disappeared as he came closer to the table, looking me over.

"You look terrible," he said.

I didn't say anything. I was still trying to process the fact that he was here at all.

"If you're not going to say anything, I could just walk out of here, and they'd put you back into your cell," Potter warned, turning slightly back towards the wall.

"No. It's okay," I said. "Just surprised that you're here." I loved to see Anthea every now and then, but Potter was the first new person I've seen here that didn't look like they wanted to kill me besides her.

Harry nodded and took a seat in one of the chairs, and I followed his lead. We both sat in silence. Several avenues for conversation passed through my mind, but I tossed them all out. They were all topics that my parents taught me to talk about if I ever hit a dry patch with other children of our former social status. Potter wouldn't be able to relate to any of them. So we both sat quietly, the silence pressing on every part of me.

"It's cold here," Harry eventually commented.

"You should try my cell," I added with a fake laugh. "There's a window that the Dementors like to see through."

Potter nodded and gave a strained smile that quickly fell away. "You know, I had this whole thing planned out in my head, but it disappeared the moment I walked in here."

"So you actually planned to talk with me?" I asked, trying to make the atmosphere a little lighter and less awkward. "You didn't lose a bet or something?"

"Actually I came to talk about your trial."

My heart jumped in surprise. "How do you know I'm going on trial?"

"It's all over the papers," he explained, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a copy of the Daily Prophet.

Harry unfolded the paper and laid it out on the table. A picture of Lucius, my mother and me took up the majority of the page under the headline "Draco Lucius Malfoy to go on Trial".

"It's going to happen two weeks from now," he said, pointing to the paper.

I finally noticed the date at the top of the article. July twentieth. "It's already July?"

Harry gave me an odd look. "Yeah…"

"Don't give me that look, Potter. If you haven't noticed, it's not like there's a sun here," I countered. "It just goes from grey to...slightly less grey."

Harry stifled a laugh, but I hardly noticed.

It was July. Last time I truly remembered the date, Harry, Ron and Hermione showed up at the manor house with a sword. That was months ago.

"Hermione's done research on Ministry trials of Death Eaters, and she said that if you keep honest, you'll be let go sooner," Potter counseled.

"Already tried the honest approach," I informed. "They didn't believe me. They gave me Veritaserum, and yet, they still don't think I'm telling the truth."

"Really? The papers said they think that you would use Dark Arts magic to overcome the effects of Veritaserum, so they didn't give you any."

"Well, they lied."

We both fell quiet again for a while until Harry broke the silence. "According to Hermione, the Ministry has authority when dealing with high profile cases-like Death Eaters-to review the defendant's memories. They don't do it often, though, because it's ethically wrong."

"Yeah. They're going to that during the trial," I informed, my heart beating faster as I said it.

On the one hand, it would feel good to get it all out of me for a while. For just the few hours it would take, I wouldn't have the memories in my head anymore. But it would also be put straight back inside. They would see it all. They would see my nightmares and what they did to me. Not just the Death Eaters, but Lucius, too. No one else should have to deal with that.

Potter's expression lightened, and he smirked inwardly. He was thinking of something, and that was never good.

"Don't go getting one of your ideas," I warned.

"What?"

"You know. You're ideas. Like, 'Hey! Let's fire this unknown and possibly deadly spell in the bathroom. Not like anything bad can happen.'," I mocked. "Or 'Hey! Let's go into the forbidden corridor at school and hope we don't die.'"

"My ideas aren't bad!" he countered.

I just stared at him, waiting for him to remember every idea he's ever had since school started.

"Not all of them, anyways," he conceded.

"There we go," I agreed, forcing a smile.

Harry rolled his eyes, then checked the watch. "Anyways, I kind of have to go." He rose from his seat. "I got a date."

"With who? Ginny?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow as he picked the paper up off of the table.

He froze and looked at me.

I laughed a little thinking of our Second Year. "That little red head finally got to you, huh?"

"Shut up," Harry groaned.

He walked over to the wall and knocked twice on the stone. The door reformed, and he opened and walked through it, looking back at me. "Good luck at the trial."

The door closed and disappeared, and it wasn't long before the Aurors returned and took me back to my cell.

 **Hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you soon for the next update!**


	39. Chapter 39

**Hello, everybody! This chapter is long-ish, so I hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

 **Chapter Thirty-nine**

Anthea opened my cell door and greeted me with a metal tray of food. "Happy trial morning."

"It's morning?" I asked, taking the tray from her. "How can you tell?" I glanced out the barred window at the constant grey cloud cover.

"Not sure if I should make fun of the fact that you can't go outside and I can, or if I should just leave it be."

"Best to just leave it be."

I took the tray over to the cot and took a seat, placing the tray on my lap.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Anthea asked, sitting next to me.

"I'm always okay," I sighed, taking a bite of the slice of bread on the tray.

"Draco," she said, a note of warning in her voice. "Are you. Going to be. Okay?"

I wanted to tell her that I was terrified. Terrified of reliving it all. Terrified that they would still say I was guilty and throw me to the Dementors. But the words didn't even make it to my throat. Anthea didn't need to have my problems in her head.

After a moment, Anthea sighed. "They're gonna come and get you in a few hours. Not enough time for lunch, so you'll be hungry," she explained, getting up and moving towards the door. "Gonna miss you when they let you out."

I nearly choked on the water I was sipping. I coughed a little and put the cup down. "You think they'll actually let me out?"

Anthea stopped and turned to face me. "Of course I do. I think you're being honest."

She smiled at me before opening the door and exiting the cell, leaving me more frozen than usual.

She actually believed me. She didn't think I was a Death Eater.

The fact filled me with excitement, but I was more relieved than anything else. I was always glad to see her, but whenever she came 'round, there was always a thorn of doubt that she was tricking me somehow. That she was being nice to me out of some sense of obligation. Knowing that Anthea actually believed me brought some sense of security and even confidence about the trial.

* * *

The Aurors came for me a few hours after Anthea's visit, just as promised. They bound my wrists and dragged me from the cell, taking me on the same path they did last time. They Apparated me away from Azkaban and we appeared on the same Muggle street.

The sun was out in full force, and I closed my eyes, enjoying it as long as possible before they pulled me through the crowds of commuting Muggles. They forced me through the same door and into the same lift in the Ministry, and it went to the same Department, but they led me deeper than before. They guided me passed the rows of small doors and to one larger door.

The door opened and they forced me through, bringing me to a large, round room that had tiers of seats filled with men and women dressed in either maroon or black robes. I didn't recognize any of them, but there were three people that sat near the door that I did recognize.

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat together looking down at me. Harry and Hermione were smiling encouragingly, but Ron looked uncomfortable, like he would rather be literally anywhere else.

My surprise at seeing them made my steps stumble, and I tripped over nothing. Luckily, the Aurors kept me from falling, so I don't think anyone noticed.

The Aurors threw me into the chair that was bolted to the floor in the middle of the circle. They chained my wrists to the armrests of the chair and left through the same door we came through.

A older man sat behind a pulpit in deeply black attire, and he looked down at me like I was animal waste. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, you stand accused of being a Death Eater, and that you willingly and in total awareness of your actions, joined the Dark Lord and his army even after you were given an opportunity to turn away. Do you deny these charges?"

"Yes," I muttered, my nerves a what was to come making the confidence that Anthea gave me completely disappear.

And now Harry, Ron and Hermione were here. They were going to see everything. Exactly what I wanted to avoid. They were trying to be encouraging-or at least Harry and Hermione were-but it only made me more nervous.

"Do you deny being a Death Eater and aiding the Dark Lord in his plot to bring down the Wizarding World and the Ministry?" the man interrogated.

"Already answered these questions," I reminded. "Why are you repeating the same things that I already answered with Veritaserum in me?"

"There are some among us who believe that you used Dark Arts magic to overcome its effects," the man explained.

"Without my wand? I might be a Seventh Year, but we never covered wandless magic," I countered.

"But you admitted to having been trained as a Death Eater, yes?"

"Yeah."

"We don't know what they taught you, and you have refused to tell us."

"Actually, I did," I said. "Basic Dark Arts magic like the Unforgivable Curses."

"I hope you don't mind if we check that ourselves."

There was a hungry challenge in his voice that told me what was coming. A woman in white stalked closer to me with her wand drawn. My first instinct said that she was going to kill me, but I strained to push down the paranoia and let her do what she needed. It would get me out of Azkaban and into the sun again.

She gently placed the tip of her wand at my temple and left it there for a second before drawing away, a bright, white strand dangling from her wand. The lights in the room dimed slightly as the witch flicked her wand into the air. The white strand that was my memory flew into the air, but the witch raised her wand again and stopped it. My memory hung in the air for a moment before she waved her wand. The white strand expanded and grew to form a picture of the maze from the Triwizard Tournament.

The witch lowered her wand, and the memories started. Potter appeared with Cedric Diggory, Lucius dragged me home, and I met You-Know-Who himself. It all played out as if it was happening for the first time. Everything from training as a Death Eater to the Battle of Hogwarts revealed itself. Even the nightmares I had over the last three years were shown.

I glanced towards Harry, Ron and Hermione to gauge their reactions. I pleaded that they wouldn't be looking at me in disgust or horror, but why wouldn't they? I caused everything they went through.

Harry's eyebrows were drawn together, and his lips were pressed into a hard line, but Hermione's expression was unreadable. I wasn't sure if she was shocked or if she felt nothing. Ron looked like he wanted to run and hide. His skin turned a deeper shade of green every time I screamed. But when the memories arrived to when I healed Hermione after Bellatrix had tortured her, his eyes widened, and he looked down at me, his eyebrows steadily rising into his hairline.

I thought it would be a relief to have these memories out in the open, but it wasn't. It made my stomach hurt and my heart race. I was reliving all of it. All of the pain and the fear. I wanted to shrink and disappear, clasp my hands around my head and scream; I wanted the memories to stop, but it was forever until they did.

The Battle of Hogwarts ended, and Madam Pomphrey healed me. I sat with Harry, Ron and Hermione, laughing until the Aurors arrested me. Then the memory of Azkaban faded to white before disappearing, the lights coming back up as it did.

It was a while before anyone spoke, but eventually, the man behind the pulpit cleared his voice and stuttered, "Th-those in favour of convicting Draco Malfoy of being a Death Eater, and that he willingly and in total awareness of his actions, joined the Dark Lord and his army even after he was given an opportunity to turn away? And may I remind you that if convicted, Mister Malfoy will spend the rest of his life in Azkaban Prison."

I winced internally, expecting an overwhelming majority to convict me for all I've caused, but only one or two people raised their hands. Those who did looked down at me with disgust and a superior lift of their chins.

"Those in favour of releasing Draco Malfoy and clearing him of all charges?"

The rest of the room raised their hands. Everyone except for those previous few gradually raised their hands.

My heart leaped to my throat. How could they think I was innocent of anything when even I didn't? I caused it all. Why were they voting to let me go?

"Cleared of all charges," the man announced, banging a piece of stone on his pulpit. "Mister Malfoy, you are free to go, and you may pick up your clothes and wand on the way out. An Auror will be there to Aparate you home."

The Aurors who had chained me to the chair approached me again and unlocked the shackles, giving me odd looks.

I stood numbly and wandered towards the door, hardly believing that I wasn't going back to Azkaban and Anthea.

"Hey, Malfoy!" Ron's voice called. I turned to see the three friends racing down the stairs. "You're not leaving without us, are you?"

I stared at them. They wanted to come with me?

"Of course he's not," Granger answered, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"I don't get a choice, do it?" I asked as I leaned away from her touch. It's not that I minded it, but it was overwhelming after the trial.

"Not if we've got anything to say about it," Harry said, moving towards the door. "Lets go get your stuff."

I followed the three of them out the door and found an Auror waiting for us. He stood with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression. "I'm here to take you home. And I'll guide you to where you need to go to pick up your things."

The man turned and walked down the corridor and Harry, Ron, Hermione and I followed. We passed several small doors and turned down several paths in the maze of corridors that was almost as confusing as Azkaban. Eventually, the Auror guided us to a door that had no label and was just as nondescript as every other door we passed. He opened it for us and waved us in.

It was a small room that only had a long desk with a short and rounder man sitting behind it. He was reading a copy of the Daily Prophet that had a photograph of me on the front page, saying that my trial was today. "Name?" he demanded, taking a sip of coffee.

"Draco Malfoy," I answered.

The man choked on his coffee and leaned forward, coughing up a lung. He dropped the paper and looked up at me wide-eyed. "They let you go? Why?"

"Just get his things, Pangborn," the Auror guiding us ordered.

"Uh. Yeah. Hang on a tick," Pangborn said.

Pangborn cleared his throat and retreated behind a door that he left open. Beyond the door were multiple shelves and rows of boxes with different names. I thought it would take him a while to find mine considering that he'd have to go all the way back to the "M"s, but he returned after a minute or two with a small, grey container labeled "Malfoy, Draco Lucius".

"Just one set of clothes and two wands," Pangborn announced, drawing each item out of the box and placing them on the counter.

I took my ruined suit-that I was probably going to burn later because it still reeked of blood and battle-and my wand, but I left the other wand. My mother's wand. "You can keep that one."

"Why?" Pangborn questioned, giving me a suspicious look.

"Not mine," I answered. "It's my mother's."

I didn't wait for a response and turned my back on Narcissa's wand, walking out of the office.

I waited for the others to come out, and the Auror shut the door behind them. "Draco, are you sure you don't want you mother's wand?" Hermione asked, coming uncomfortably close.

"Yeah. Why would I?"

"It's a piece of her," she clarified, lowering her voice.

"I don't need any reminders," I responded, cutting off our conversation.

The Auror guided us through the Department of Mysteries and to the lifts. He called one and waited for us to enter before ordering the lift to take us to the main level of the Ministry.

Now it was time for me to ask the questions. "How did you three even get into my trial, anyway?"

"I pulled some strings," Harry answered. "I figured that since I've actually got pull now, why not use it?"

Yeah, but why for me? I wanted to ask him, but the lift door clanged open, revealing a swarm of men and women with cameras. Their camera bulbs flashed one after the other, blinding me.

"Before any of you ask him any questions," the Auror announced, quieting the crowd, "Mister Draco Malfoy had been released, and all charges have been dropped."

His words threw the paparazzi into a frenzy. Their cameras flashed even faster than before and they bombarded me with a wave of sound that turned out to be shouted questions:

"Mister Malfoy, how do you feel about being released?"

"Malfoy, how do you feel about you parents being on the run, and do you think that they'll be on the run for long?"

"Why do you think that the Ministry held you in Azkaban for so long before letting you stand trial?"

Harry leaned towards me. "Just keep your head down to avoid the flashes and don't say anything."

"Should've known your fame would come in handy one day," I muttered, but if Potter heard, he didn't respond.

The Auror lead us through the swarming crowds of photographers and journalists and into one of the fireplaces that served as the entrances and exits for the Ministry workers. The same green flame flared up around us, and I instinctively flinched. With everything fresh in my mind again, I thought it was a Killing Curse.

But the flame spat us out the same doorway the Aurors brought me in. The Auor guiding us lifted his wand and waved it, Aparating us away. We reappeared outside the gates of my family's manor house.

"When you were arrested, the Ministry sent a team of Aurors to inspect the house," the man explained, approaching the gates with his wand raised. "They looked for signs of Dark Magic and...clean up."

My mind flashed to the goblins' slaughter and the trail of blood left by my shoes.

The Auror waved his wand back and forth in front of the gates. The air around the entire property mistified before bursting like a smoke-filled bubble. The mist of magic dispersed into the air and the gates swung open.

The Auror gestured for us to enter. "Home sweet home. The Ministry will want to keep in contact with you for a while, by the way, so be sure to tell them if you move or something." He then lifted his wand and Disapparated.

The three of us stood silently for a moment. I didn't know what to do. Socially, I should invite the three in, but _I_ didn't want to enter the house, so I doubted that _they_ wanted to.

"You're rich, right?" Ron suddenly voiced,

"I guess," I muttered.

"So I assume you have food in the house," he added.

"If it's still good after months," I said.

"Ron'll eat it even if it's gone bad," Granger mocked.

"Then you want to come in?" I offered.

"Sure," Harry accepted.

The four of us walked along the path and into the house. The foyer was almost just as I left it. All the furniture was the unmoved, and the blank walls were still white, but the trail of blood from the goblins' massacre was gone.

"So, I am actually starving," Harry said.

The House Elves suddenly came to mind. They were left alone all these months. "Well, I don't know how to cook, but the House Elves do. If they stayed, that is."

"Of course they stayed," Hermione answered. "Those poor creatures are _forced_ to stay at the home of their 'masters'."

"Then let's find them and get some food that's not from prison." I started to wander towards the kitchen where the House Elves always lingered. "I'm starving, too. Last I ate was hours before the trial."

"Seriously?" Harry wondered as he followed me.

"Yeah. And it was minimalistic meals, too," I said. "A piece of bread, a cup of water and mashed potatoes. Same thing every meal."

"Ron would die," Harry laughed.

I glanced behind me to see Ron and Hermione walking very close together. "Especially because he'd be without her. Always knew they'd end up together. Apparently I'm a master at predicting who will end up with who."

Harry smirked a little as we arrived in the kitchen, but it was empty. No House Elves milled about making food, and no Death Eaters stood idly eating or conversing.

But it wasn't long until a small voice greeted us. "Young Master Malfoy?" a pale and recognizable House Elf creeped slowly out of hiding. "Is that you?"

"Yes, Loft. It's me," I answered.

Loft gasped and ran forward with his arms out towards me, but he stopped a few feet short. He lowered his arms back down to his sides and stared at the floor. "When Loft overheard the Death Eaters saying that you were taken to the cellar, Loft heard much screaming come from below. Loft feared that his young master had died."

"I'm okay," I comforted, looking down at him. "Is there anyone else here?"

"Yes, sir. Loft and the others were ordered to stay out of the way while the Aurors of the Ministry searched the house," the Elf answered.

The remaining House Elves appeared, some Apparating, others crawling out of small hiding places.

"I can't believe your family has this many House Elves," Hermione whispered.

I turned to her to see her looking around at all of the Elves with her eyebrows drawn together in pity. "It's a big house," I explained. "And it's not like Lucius would clean it himself." I turned back to Loft. "Is there any food in the house. These three and I are starving."

"Yes, sir. Loft and the other Elves kept busy with the usual chores they are ordered to do."

I turned back to Ron. "What do you want to eat?"

Weasley looked a bit shocked that I was asking him, so he shrugged. "Whatever they want to make."

"Okay, well, I'm going to get some actual clothes on and probably burn these things." I held out the remains of the suit I wore during the Battle. "Think you can survive five minutes alone?"

"We'll be fine. Go ahead and change," Potter permissed.

I left the three in the kitchen and retreated into my old room. I closed the door, my hand habitually moving to the lock, but I stopped with my hand on the deadbolt.

I didn't need to lock it anymore. The only ones in the house were Harry, Ron, Hermione and me. I didn't need to lock the door anymore.

My room looked largely untouched. Everything was the same except that the wardrobe's doors were open and my clothes looked like they were rooted through.

I dropped the ruined suit on my bed and grabbed a fresh one from the wardrobe. I gladly changed into it, finally getting rid of the Azkaban prison clothes. I looked myself over in the mirror for the first time in months. I was underweight and pale, but that was normal. My hair-which had grown past my ears-was in knots, and I was almost growing a beard.

I left my room, detangling my longer hair as I went. I arrived at the door of the kitchen, but whispered conversation reached my ears.

"...nervous about leaving him." It sounded like Potter.

"I'm not." That was definitely Weasley. "He'll be fine. He might need a haircut, but he'll be fine."

"But you saw everything." The last voice was Hermione's. "He looked like he wanted to kill himself. And what if he gets sick again?"

A while passed before Ron spoke. "Wonder if I can send a message to Mum. Ask to stay overnight."

"Might want to ask Draco first," Potter cautioned.

It lightened my mood to know that they cared enough to want to watch over me, but it was also another reminder that they knew everything.

"Ask me what?" I said, coming into the kitchen to find the three sitting down at the table.

The friends jumped and turned to me, though they tried to cover up their surprise.

"We wanted to know if it was okay if we stayed overnight with you," Harry asked.

"Yeah, that's fine," I answered, taking the last chair at the table. "There's plenty of room, obviously, but are you sure you want to stay here?" I glanced at Hermione.

"Yeah," she assured. "As long as its okay."

"And as long as she can cut you hair," Ron added. "She cut ours while we were on the run, and you need one desperately."

I passed my hand through my ear-length hair, his comment actually drawing a smile to my lips. "No argument here."

"Great. Now we just need to get a message to my mum about us staying here, so she doesn't have a coronary," Ron said.

"We can send her a fire message," I suggested.

"Sure," Ron agreed. "How?"

"Come on." I got up and moved towards the door, waiting for Ron to follow.

The goblins were slaughtered in the main parlour we would normally use. I never wanted to go in there again, so I led Ron passed it's doors and into a different one. I approached the fireplace and drew my wand, lighting a fire inside.

Energy coursed through me as the fire flared up. I hadn't used magic in months. It was amazing to use my wand again.

I stood back up and pulled out a piece of parchment from under the paperweight on top of the mantle. I picked up the inkwell and a quill and handed them to Ron. "Write the letter, fold it, write the address on the outside of the parchment and toss it in the fire," I instructed.

Weasley nodded and sat down in the nearby chair. He placed the parchment on the small table and unstopped the inkwell. He dipped the quill inside and began to write.

The letter took up the whole sheet of parchment, and when he was finished, he blew the ink dry and folded it, writing the address on the parchment. He got up and tossed it in the fire. "Hermione's going to cut your hair after our lunch-dinner," he ordered as the parchment burned.

I nodded as he started to make his way back to the kitchen.

* * *

I sat on a stool in the same parlour that Ron sent his fire message. Hermione walked in with a pair of scissors. She turned to Harry and looked at him sternly. "I thought I told you not to let me give anyone a haircut."

"No, you said not to let you give _me_ a haircut again," Potter laughed.

"I'm just curious how Malfoy'll look bald," Ron added, making me jump.

"What?" I breathed as Weasley snickered, my heart jumping at the comment.

"I'm not going to make him bald," Hermione groaned as she came closer to me. "Hold still," she ordered, walking around to the back of me.

The cold metal of the scissors passed over the back of my neck, and I had to force myself not to flinch. For a brief moment, I thought it was Bellatrix's knife.

Several minutes passed by where the only sound was the snipping of Hermione's scissors. The dying fire flared up, growing brighter and hotter until a piece of paper shot out of the flames, fluttering down to the floor.

Hermione froze in her snipping and stared at the folded parchment on the floor.

"Ron," I called, getting his attention. "That's your response."

"Oh!" he shouted, going for the paper. "Sorry. Never sent a fire message before."

Hermione resumed cutting my hair as Ron silently read the message.

"Mum says its fine as long as we come home tomorrow night," Weasley announced.

"Good," I said as Hermione crossed in front of me and looked me over. "Now the only question is if you two," I gestured between Ron and Hermione, "want one room or two."

Weasley flushed a bright red, and Granger stuttered random letters that vaguely sounded like English. Potter, on the other hand, laughed wholeheartedly.

"T-two, definitely," Hermione stuttered.

"Okay," I laughed, feeling only partially guilty for making them so flustered.

"Your hair's done, jerk," Granger mocked with a hint of a smirk.

"Thanks," I said, getting up from the stool and running a hand through my short hair.

"Well, I'm exhausted," Ron voiced as he got up from his chair. "Show us where the rooms are?"

"Yeah," I muttered waving them towards the stairs.

"Wait. Hang on," Hermione called. "Aren't we gonna clean up?" She gestured to the pile of white hair that was littered around the stool.

"The House Elves can get it," I reminded, trying to remember that she was a MuggleBorn and unused to having House Elves.

"But they just cooked dinner for us," Granger argued.

"And they've also been without anyone in the house for months," I said. "They would rather clean up after us than sit around any longer."

Hermione still looked unsure. Remembering her earlier reactions to the mentions of my family's House Elves, she must be one of those House Elves rights activists. I never approved of how Lucius treated the Elves, but in all honesty, I never gave a second thought to whether or not I should free them. Hermione must think that the Elves hated working, but from what I've seen, they didn't.

"Look. The Elves have been idle for months because no one was here. But now there is someone here, and if _we_ clean up instead of them, they might hurt themselves for being too slow. I've seen them do it, and you can't stop them once they start," I explained.

Granger gradually nodded and followed us towards the stairs, Harry behind her.

I guided the three friends upstairs and gestured to the endless hall of doors. "Pick a room. Just not the one with the double doors."

"Why not?" Potter asked.

"That's my parents' room, so if you really want to sleep in _that_ bed…" I warned.

" _Okay._ Not going in there," Ron voiced, starting down the hall.

The three picked a room and they all said goodnight to each other and to me. They disappeared into their temporary rooms, and I retreated into mine.

I might be out of Azkaban with a new haircut and fresh clothes, but the grimy feeling of prison and the Battle still clung to my skin. I raced to my private bathroom and turned on the water in the tub as fast as I could, catching a glimpse of the Hermione's haircut in the mirror.

She did and excellent job at doing away with the knotted locks. It almost looked professional. It made me look less like Lucius.

* * *

I felt so much fresher after I had bathed and gotten rid of the bear that had started to grow. I was a little more like myself, now that all of the dirt was gone. I was even excited to sleep in my own bed again.

I dropped down into bed and quickly fell asleep, the emotional and physical exhaustion from being locked up with Dementors finally catching up with me.

* * *

 _I ran through my father's house, frantically looking for an exit. I didn't know why I was running or what I was running from, but I knew I had to leave._

 _My heart hammered against my ribs as I ran. Every door I tried to open was locked. If I lingered for longer than a second trying to pry the doors open, loud footsteps sounded, closing in on me rapidly. I raced from door to door, not caring where they led. Only thinking that they could be a way out._

 _At last a door opened, but it led me out to a balcony that was over two stories off of the ground._

 _I scoured my pockets for my wand, but it was missing. I could have sworn I brought it with me._

" _Draco, wait," my father's voice called._

 _I looked back through the door of the balcony and found Lucius closing in on me, his large form blocking the door entirely._

" _You need to stay," he said._

" _I can't."_

" _You have to, or he will get us both."_

 _I glanced at the ground far below, my anxiety calming slightly. "No. Not both."_

 _Lucius drew his wand from his walking stick, baring his teeth, but I was over the edge of the balcony before he could say one word._

 _A hand caught my wrist as I fell, preventing me from reaching the ground. I looked up and found Mother holding onto me. She used all of her strength and pulled me back up and over the balcony railing._

 _Mother pushed me through the door and back inside the house. She closed the door that led to the balcony-and my escape-locking it tight. "You have to stay, Draco," she said, her calm words drugging me, stealing away my adrenaline-induced energy._

 _I was powerless to fight them. Lucius was stronger than me in magic, and Narcissa could force me to calm and accept whatever she said._

 _I had to stay._

* * *

I jolted awake, getting up from my bed as quick as I could. My chest was so tight that I couldn't breath, and my heart was beating so fast that it forced away each breath I took. My night clothes were sticking to my clammy skin. I needed air, and my room was much too suffocating.

I fled my room and ended up at the landing at the top of the stairs. I grasped the railing and eventually put my head down on it, its cool temperature settling my racing heart.

"Draco?" Granger's voice called.

I lifted my head and looked over my shoulder to find her standing in a tank top in the middle of the hall with her arms wrapped around herself.

"Can't sleep?" I asked.

"And neither could you by the looks of it." She came closer and leaned up against the railing with me. "Why not?"

I looked away from her. She saw all of the other nightmares. She didn't need to know this one, too. Especially because this one was the most terrifying dream I could remember.

"I had a nightmare," she muttered, gently massaging the wrist Bellatrix cut.

Her action made me instinctively glance down at my own scarred wrist, the curve of the scar sticking out of the end of the sleeve.

"Bellatrix is dead, you know," Hermione voiced, looking back up at me. "So you don't have to be scared of her anymore."

Was she talking more to me or herself?

"She is?" I wondered, though I already knew it was true. Bellatrix wouldn't run. She loved Voldemort too much to run.

Hermione hummed in confirmation, and we both fell quiet.

My mind drifted in and out of the memories of every Death Eater I've seen walk the halls of my house. People were held prisoner here, tortured here, killed here-myself included. Who was I kidding? I couldn't stay here. It wasn't a home anymore. It's a...Death Eater hub station.

"Is that what you think?" Granger said.

I blinked at her for a moment. "Sorry. Didn't realise I said it out loud."

"It's fine," she assured. "And you don't have to stay here, you know."

I glanced at her, simultaneously dreading and looking forward to where this conversation was going. "How do you mean?"

"You can stay at Ron's house. That's where Harry and I are staying right now. Well, we can ask for you to stay there anyways."

"That's nice of you, but you don't have to," I said.

I wanted so badly to stay anywhere but here, but I didn't need to burden her or anyone else with my problems. It was over now. I didn't need or deserve help.

We were both quiet again for a while. Why couldn't I think of anything to say to these three? It was always just a bunch of awkward silence that I can never figure out how to break.

"What would you do with this place if you don't stay here?" Hermione asked.

Thank goodness everyone else seemed to know how to get us talking again.

"Sell it probably," I answered.

"You'll be rich if you did. This your house is huge."

I chuckled softly. "Yeah. The house with everything in it along with the grounds are worth, uh…" I ran the calculations in my head, remembering everything my parents taught me about our family's finances. "A...couple million galleons."

"Woah. Really?"

"Yeah. If someone buys it, I'll be richer than Harry."

Then I could do what Madam Pomphrey suggested and practice healing. I'd be able to afford admission and books to a Wizarding medical school.

"I think I'm gonna head back to bed," Granger sighed.

"I might, too."

"Okay. See you in a few hours, then, considering that it's about three AM," she laughed.

I smiled and nodded. "Goodnight."

 **This was so awkward to write. I had no idea how the Golden Trio would interact with Draco on a friendly basis, so I hope it was written alright! See you soon for the next chapter!**


	40. Chapter 40

**Hey, guys! Time for another chapter! Be prepared for a skipped Update Saturday this week, too. I have a thing that will leave me down and out for the rest of the week, so I might not be able to update this Saturday. Sorry in advance!**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Chapter Forty**

As soft knock sounded at my door. I jolted awake and snatched up my wand, pointing it at the door. My paranoid mind automatically assumed that it was a Death Eater or Lucius at the door, but I took a deep breath and forced my racing heart to calm.

Both the Death Eaters and my parents were on the run. They were not in the house. They couldn't hurt me or anyone anymore.

I put my wand down with a sigh, my shoulders sagging. A second knock came, and I finally remembered who really was in the house. I got up from the bed and opened the door, greeting all three of the friends. "Morning," I muttered, stifling a yawn from my restless night.

"Good morning," Hermione responded, clearing her throat. "Um..we were all up early this morning and…" She turned to the two boys behind her and whispered, "Maybe I shouldn't be the one to tell him."

"It was your idea," Harry muttered.

"We sent another fire message to my mum this morning," Ron voiced suddenly. "We told her about your...situation, and she wants you to stay at my house."

"What did you tell her?" I questions, crossing my arms. They saw my memories, yes, but it was still private information. I didn't want it spreading any further than it had tol.

"Nothing specific. Just that a lot of Death Eaters used to meet in your house and that you were uncomfortable staying here," Harry explained.

I glanced at Hermione. She was trying to be helpful by telling Harry and Ron about our conversation early this morning, but I was still hurt by the fact that she told them about my private comment.

But mostly I was relieved. I had somewhere to go. Somewhere that wasn't infected with the memories of blood and Lucius.

"So do you accept or not?" Ron wondered.

I nodded, afraid my voice would crack if I verbally agreed.

Hermione smiled gently and shared a look with Ron.

"When do you want to leave?" Harry asked.

"I'll need some time to pack clothes and stuff, so is this afternoon good? After lunch?" I suggested.

"Yeah. We'll just need to tell mum what time to expect us," Ron answered.

"And I'll need to let the Ministry know that I'm going to stay with you," I added.

* * *

After the four of us ate breakfast and Ron and I sent our fire messages, I pulled out a trunk from under my bed and put it on top of the mattress. It was the same trunk I used for Hogwarts. It looked plain, but when I opened it, I was greeted by the emerald and silver Slytherin decor I put on the inside after I got Sorted.

I couldn't stop a small smile from forming on my lips. I used to hate Potter, Weasley and Granger. Slytherin would be all lined up to win the House Cup, but then Potter would swoop in with his two friends, break a dozen school rules and somehow get rewarded with the Cup. Now, I'm going to stay at Ron's house _with_ Harry and Hermione. It was odd how things can change.

I sorted through my wardrobe, pulling out clothes for both night and day and tossed them on my bed next to the trunk. I took the usual toiletries from my bathroom and packed them into the trunk with the clothes like I was going to school.

I scanned my room for anything else I would need, and my eyes fell on the radio resting on my bedside table. I shrugged and picked it up, the small table rocking with the shift in weight.

Something metallic clattered on the table as I placed the radio in my case. I glanced over at the table and found that the picture frame that I kept on the table had fallen onto its face. I had looked at the picture so many times that I hardly noticed it anymore, but it glared at me now. I picked up the frame and looked at the photograph of my family and I inside. It was taken years ago when I had gotten home after my First Year. I stood smiling in Slytherin robes my parents on either side of me. Mother had her arm around me and was looking down at me proudly. Father had his hand on my shoulder, and though he wasn't looking at me, pride that matched my mothers glowed in his eyes.

My jaw clenched as I stared at the image of Lucius. I wanted to leave the picture behind and forget about it just to spite him, but I couldn't. This was taken before everything happened; this was when my father and mother were still just that: my father and mother and nothing more.

I placed the photograph in my trunk between layers of clothes and closed it. I was about to leave my room with the trunk when my mind drifted to the conversation with Hermione on the landing. I wasn't going to come back here, and if I was going to use the money from selling the house to get into a Wizarding school of medicine, I'd need to study, and Lucius wasn't around to lock the libraries.

I grabbed my trunk and left my room with it, pausing only momentarily at the door. This room had been my safe place for the passed year. The only Death Eater that entered was my Lucius, and he never hurt me here. But I didn't need it anymore. It was all over. I didn't need to hide.

I habitually closed the door to my old room and moved to a small hall closet, taking a second trunk that would be for the books. I shouldered the door closed and descended to the level where most of the libraries were. I entered the first one I came across and put the trunks on the floor.

I scanned the wall full of books for anything that sounded like it would have healing magic in it. Several feet up was a shelf that seemed to be filled with the type of books I was looking for, but I still had to check before I brought them down here.

I drew my wand and brought the library's laddar close to me then put my wand back in my pocket. I climbed up the rungs until I was level with the shelf of books and drew one out. I flipped it open and skimmed it, confirming that it was filled with healing magic. I repeated the process two or three times until my hands were full of books.

"Ah, crap," I muttered.

I didn't think this through. I needed my wand to get these books down to the floor without damaging them, but now I could reach for it.

"Need some help?" Hermione's voice called.

I glanced over at the door and found her standing with her arms crossed.

"Hey," I greeted. "And a little, yeah."

Hermione smirked and drew her wand, levitating the books from my hands and to the floor, though she caught one as it floated down. "Healing magic?"

"Yeah," I answered, grabbing another book. "Figured I should know a bit more than what I used to fix you up."

Hermione reached up for the book and I handed it to her before checking another.

"You wanna go to med school?"

"Don't see why not. After I sell this place I'll have enough to go."

Hermione took the next book from me, placed it on the floor and opened the trunk. She put the books in the trunk, packing them tightly. "You've got room for one more considering how thick these books are."

"Something tells me that the only thing you ever packed for school was books," I mocked, taking another book off of the shelf.

"Sort of," she agreed with a shrug, placing the book in the trunk. "Speaking of you selling the place, though, what're you going to do with the House Elves?"

I handed her the book and stepped down from the ladder. The truth was that I hadn't thought about it until she mentioned it, but I couldn't tell her that. "Free them, I suppose," I answered. "Elves don't do well idle, and I doubt they would do well at Ron's either."

"Okay, then you need to give them clothes," she rushed.

"Yeah, I know," I laughed, crossing behind her and closing the trunk. "Guess I'm raiding my father's closet."

I hauled the weighted trunk off the ground and moved to pick up the other one, but Hermione had it first.

"I'm gonna free them after we eat lunch, though," I added.

Hermione laughed lightly as we descended the stairs to the main level. "Understandable." We placed the trunks in the foyer and made our way towards the kitchen. "Actually, I came to find you to say that lunch was ready."

We arrived in the kitchen to find Ron and Harry already eating what the Elves had prepared.

* * *

"Ready to go?" Harry asked, getting up from the table.

"Yeah. Just one more thing," I responded.

Hermione smiled at me as I left the kitchen. I ran up the stairs until I arrived at my parents' old room. I grabbed the handle but hesitated. I was never allowed in my parents room. When I was little, my mother would bring me in a few times, but when I got older, I was barred from entering.

My parents weren't here. Lucius wasn't behind this door, waiting with his wand out.

I turned the handle and walked in. It was the smell that hit me first: mixture of my mother's perfume and the cologne that my father gradually stopped wearing during the war.

I forced my head down and went quickly to their walk-in closet. I grabbed an armful of small articles of Lucius' clothing-socks, ties and the like.

I walked out of the closet and tried to leave without looking at their room, but a photograph of my father and me caught my eye. It was the two of us at the Quidditch World Cup before my Fourth Year. Lucius' ring rested on the bedside table the photograph, so it must have been his side of the bed.

I ripped my gaze away from the photograph and left the room, racing to get as far away from it as possible.

I didn't know where the House Elves were when they weren't being ordered around, but I knew that they were always around the kitchen, so I returned there and found Harry, Ron and Hermione still sitting at the table.

"What're those for?" Ron laughed.

I dropped the clothing on the floor and looked back at him. "I doubt that I'll ever come back here, so I'm letting the Elves go before I leave."

"Sir?" Loft's small and cracking voice called. "Is that true, sir? You're leaving?"

I looked down at the Elf as he came around the corner. "Yes, Loft. I'm leaving, and I'm letting you all go before I do."

Loft's floppy ears raised up slightly, and his mouth curved upwards at the corners. He ran back the way he came and returned with all of the Elves my family had employed.

I got down on my knees as they lined up in front of the pile of clothes, staring at it with hope in their large eyes. I handed each of them something from the pile, and they either nodded, smiled or muttered a quietl, "Thank you, sir."

Loft was last in line. I held out the last thing from the pile, but he didn't take it. "Are you sure about leaving, sir?" he asked.

"You know what happened here," I said softly, trying to get him to take the tie in my hand. "I can't stay here after all that."

Loft nodded and looked up at me, taking the tie. "Loft will miss you, Draco Malfoy."

Loft passed by me and joined the group of Elves. All of them Disapparated at once, leaving the room silent and empty.

I got back to my feet and Hermione instantly pulled me into a tight hug that made me tense and fill with the same awkwardness that occurred whenever there was a lull in conversation between the four of us. She let me go and looked at me with gratitude. "Thanks for freeing them."

"Y-you're welcome," I stuttered, clearing my throat to banish the uncomfortableness in the pit of my stomach.

Weasley glared at me over Hermione's shoulder, getting to his feet.

"Uh. Could you please tell Ron that I don't like you like that?" I muttered, getting Hermione to turn and see Ron's reaction.

"Would you calm down, Ron?" she ordered.

Weasley rolled his eyes and looked back at me. "Now are you ready to go?"

"Yeah. I am."

I was overjoyed that Hermione was able to talk him down from wanting to hit me again, but now I was going to stay at his house. It was already tremendously awkward with just the four of us. Add infinitely more Weasleys into the mix, and the level of uncomfortableness would increase tremendously. Or it could be a lot less awkward because there was more people to make conversation.

"Let's go, then," Harry voiced leaving the kitchen and heading towards the foyer.

Ron, Hermione and I followed behind him until we found my trunks in the foyer. I picked up both of the trunks and headed towards the door. Ron opened it for me and I stepped out.

An odd, aching feeling settled into my chest as Harry and Hermione followed out. Ron closed the door and that same uneasy feeling traveled into my throat, nearly sealing it shut.

Harry tentatively placed a hand on my shoulder before lifting his wand and Apparating us away from what was my home for fifteen years. I tried to remind myself that the house wasn't a home anymore, but it didn't help ease the aching in my chest.

The four of us appeared in a field of tall grass, a long, dirt path stretching out towards a tall, wooden house. It had a wide, almost round base and a tall, rectangular top that was supported by wooden beams extending up and out of the roof of the base. The whole thing looked rundown, and the top was so precarious that it seemed like a stiff breeze could blow the whole thing over.

"So?" Ron voiced. "What do you think?"

I searched my mind for anything to say that wouldn't be insulting. "It's bigger than I thought it would be."

"It's not much, but it's home to me," he said, starting down the path.

Harry, Hermione and I followed after him, and when we approached the front door as Ron knocked on it thrice.

The door was immediately pulled open by Molly Weasley. "Welcome home, Ron!" she greeted warmly, pulling Ron into a hug that he readily accepted.

Ron was sent into the house, and Harry walked up next. Missus Weasley took him into her arms, and then embraced Hermione, sending her into the house after the boys.

"Aren't you going to come in, Draco?" the mother asked when I remained on the porch.

I approached the doorway, but was prevented from entering her home. Molly Weasley pulled me into her arms and hugged me the same as the others. My muscles coiled painfully tight as she hugged me. I can count on one hand the people who have hugged me in my life, and one of them was literally Lord Voldemort. I glanced at Ron as the hug went on a tad too long and was relieved when she let go.

I tried to smile at her in thanks as I entered the house.

"Ron. Why don't you show Draco where he'll be staying," Missus Weasley requested.

"Sure," Ron agreed. "Come on."

I followed Ron through the house and up a long set of creaking stairs that had two too many landings. He led me into a large room that had three beds and a tall window at the end of it.

"Yours would be the one on the end," Ron informed.

I nodded and crossed the lengthy, wooden room to the furthest bed and placed my trunks on top of the mattress and the thread-bare comforters. I rolled my shoulder that was aching from supporting the trunk full of books and looked back at Ron lingering in the doorway.

"Thanks for this," I said softly.

"Not a problem," he responded, rubbing the back of his neck. "I suppose its my way of thanking _you_. For all that you did for Hermione."

"That wasn't a problem, either," I dismissed, my chest tightening at the direction the conversation was going.

"Yes, it was. You were tortured for helping her."

I winced internally at the statement, faint memories of my own screams springing to mind.

We were silent for a moment before _I_ was able to think of something to say for once. "We won, didn't we?" I offered. "He's gone, so it was worth it."

"Yeah," Ron muttered, falling quiet again. "I think I'll help mum with dinner."

"But it's only three in the afternoon," I pointed out.

"I know. But do you realize how big my family is? If you want to have enough food, you got to start cooking hours in advance." He took a step back into the hall but stopped and turned back to me. "And fair warning, it's first come first served here. You want to eat, you've got to move fast." With that, Ron left the room and jogged down the stairs.

I turned back to my trunk and opened the one with my clothes and dug through it. I drew out the picture of my family, the aching thorn in my heart returning and forcing me to take a seat beside my trunk.

I didn't know why my heart hurt whenever I thought of my parents. I should be burning with hatred. They hurt and betrayed me more than the Dark Lord ever did or could. But for some reason, I missed them. Or at least the version of them that was immortalized in the photograph.

A loud pop echoed through the room, making me jump and shout in surprise, dropping the picture to instinctively reach for my wand and look up at the two people who had Apparated into the room.

"So it is true!" George exclaimed. "A Malfoy is staying in our house."

"Isn't that a surprise," Ginny agreed with a smile.

"Mum said it was happening, but I didn't believe her," George added, taking a seat beside me on the bed and bumping into my trunk that was so weighed down with books that it didn't even wobble. "Woah. What's in here?" he laughed, taking the handle of the trunk. He tried to pull the trunk into his lap but couldn't overcome the weight of the books inside. "What is this? Cinder blocks?" he groaned. He flipped the trunk over and clicked the latches open. "Gross. Textbooks."

"You don't have to read them," I muttered.

"You're dang right I don't," George responded loudly, getting up from the bed. "And I won't. Sorry, Ginny, but I need to leave this room of learning. You're in charge of the Malfoy." George raised his wand and Disapparated, leaving me alone with his sister.

I tried to think of something to say to Ginny, but the only things I really knew about her is that she'd gotten together with Potter and plays Quidditch. I've never interacted with Ginny on a personal level beyond our brief meeting before my Second Year.

"Here," she said, thankfully breaking yet another silence. Ginny bent down and picked up the picture frame I dropped and handed it to me, briefly glancing at the photograph.

"Thanks." I took the frame from her.

Ginny picked up one of the books in the trunk and thumbed through it. "This is healing magic," she noted. "Is that what all of them are about?"

I nodded.

"You want to be a Healer?"

I wasn't sure how to react to the question. The answer was yes, but it felt weird to say it.

"Gotta say I never expected it out of you, Draco," she sighed, taking George's place on the mattress.

"Neither did I," I agreed, panicking slightly as we both fell quiet again.

Why could I never think of anything to say to these people? Eventually, I decided to stick with the current topic of conversation. "What about you?" I tentatively asked. "What do you want to be?"

"A pro Quidditch player," she answered, placing the book back in the trunk. "It's the one thing I can picture myself doing for the rest of my life."

I tried to remember the times she played during my Sixth Year, but I was so distracted that year that I barely remembered even one game. "You've got the talent for it," I complimented, thinking of how the Gryffindor team did Sixth Year.

"Thanks," she laughed, raising an eyebrow at me.

We were both quiet again for a while. All this silence was starting to get to me. Interactions with the Weasleys, Granger and Potter better get more natural soon, or I might lose it.

"Why don't you come down stairs?" Ginny suggested. "No point in you sitting up here all by yourself."

"Sure," I readily agreed. Anything to make this less uncomfortable.

Ginny and I got up from the bed, and I placed the photograph of my parents and I back in the trunk full of clothing and latched it shut.

I followed Ginny down the twisting and creaking staircase to the main level and was hit with the scent of a variety of flavours. I couldn't identify what they were, but they made my mouth water.

"There you are, Draco," Molly Weasley exclaimed, coming up to me from the small kitchen.

She embraced me tightly again, and I still didn't know how to react. My arms stayed firmly at my sides, and my stomach churned with the awkwardness, though I was probably making it more awkward by not moving.

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" George laughed from the sofa as his mother released me. "Your parents _did_ hug you, right?"

I was about to answer that of course they did, but I froze, genuinely pondering his question. I couldn't remember the last time Lucius hugged me or if he ever did, and the last time I remembered my mother properly embracing me, I wasn't old enough to start Hogwarts.

The room fell silent for a moment, but it was a different kind of silence: more tense than awkward.

"Well, you're just in time to help Ron," Missus Weasley voiced, breaking the quiet. "Could you?"

"Sure," I answered, the etiquette lessons my parents had subjected me to coming to the surface. "It's the least I can do to thank you for having me, Missus Weasley."

"Call me Molly, please," she requested.

"Molly, then," I repeated as she placed a hand on my shoulder and led me to the kitchen where Ron was standing over a pan on the stove.

"Ron, could you fill him in on what we're making?" Molly asked.

"Yeah," Ron responded. "Come on." He used the spatula he was holding and gestured for me to join him by the stove. I walked up to him, and he gave me a condescending look. "Do you even know how to work a stove?"

"No, not a clue," I said honestly, my voice just above a whisper. "The House Elves always cooked."

"Must've been nice to have House Elves to all the work," Ron commented. "It's just burgers right now, so hold the pan, move the patties around with the spatula every now and then and make sure it doesn't burn."

Ron handed me the spatula, and I took the handle of the pan. Ron moved to the other end of the counter and reached up into the cabinet, pulling out buns in a plastic bag.

"The Elves were convenient, but it got rather boring at times," I added, smirking.

Ron froze and looked at me before rolling his eyes. "Just shut up and cook," he groaned, though he had a hint of a smile. "Lift the edge of them up to see if it's done underneath. If they're still pink, leave 'em, if it's brown, flip 'em."

"...Okay," I said, tentatively nudging the spatula underneath one of the four patties.

I lifted the edge of the pattie up, and was greeted with a spray of hot grease that splashed all over my hand. I hissed and automatically released the spatula, but I grabbed for it again before it could fall. The cooking tool repeatedly slipped through my fingers, and as it bounced off of the counter and nearly hit the floor, Ron easily caught it with one hand.

"You good?" he laughed, a full, mocking smile on his face.

"It's covered in grease and therefore is slippery," I dismissed, crossing my arms.

"Yeah, sure. We'll go with that." Ron slipped between the counter and me, taking my place at the stove. "Why don't you just get some stuff out, and I'll fix these," he suggested.

I gladly stepped away from the stove as Ron told me where everything was stored.

* * *

Molly Weasley had long since kicked Ron and I out of the kitchen and taken over the cooking, so everyone rushed to the door to greet Mister Weasley as he arrived home. "Hey, everybody!" he called.

"Hi, dad!" half of them called.

"Welcome home, Arthur!" Missus Weasley shouted from the distance.

I stayed in the living room, suddenly becoming alone when everyone ran to the door. Socially, I should get up to greet the man of the house, but I was still unbelievably uncomfortable with the whole situation.

"Well, hello, Draco," Mister Weasley said, coming into the room and offering me his hand.

I got up from the sofa and took it. "Sir," I greeted stiffly.

"Dinner!" Molly hollered.

George bounded down the stairs with Ginny, and they both shoved passed me. Mister Weasley and I followed after them, arriving at the table to find that there were only three empty seats and everyone had already started taking food, piling it onto their plates.

Arthur Weasley took the seat at the head of the table, and I took an empty one beside who I thought was Percy Weasley. I couldn't help but notice the empty chair next to George, and it made my chest tighten, but I forced myself to look away.

"Dig in, Draco," Molly offered, gesturing to the table full of food like at Hogwarts.

I took a hamburger from the plate in front of me and scanned the remnants on the table. Ron wasn't kidding when he said that I had to move fast if I wanted to eat.

Throughout the whole dinner, the family, Hermione and Harry ate and chatted, making jokes and laughing. Everyone stayed in their seat. Mister Weasley didn't say he had work things to catch up on and retreat into another room. It was loud and messy, and one of the most wonderful and terrible dinners I've ever been to.

There was a sense of familiarity instead of propriety. Everyone looked happy instead of neutral and unreadable. But it was also so loud that it made my head hurt, and George made so many offensive jokes that I could barely get my food down. I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed when it was over.

We all tossed our plates in the sink and Molly ordered us to bed. All of the Weasley siblings, Potter, Granger and I shared one bathroom, and it was a terrible mess to try to brush my teeth. Eventually I settled for quickly spitting my toothpaste out of the window and diving in front of Percy to grab a drink from the sink to rinse.

"Hey!" he shouted, but I shrugged and swished the water around in my mouth.

I leaned back out the window and spat the water out just as George had the same idea and disposed of his own toothpaste. I rushed out of the bathroom as Ron and Harry arrived in their night clothes. I ran to the room I was staying in and fell onto the end of my bed. The chaos of fighting over the bathroom sink was somehow incredibly exhausting.

I got up from the bed and got my trunk full of clothes open, deciding to get into my night clothes now before anyone else invaded the room, but I froze when I was greeted by the picture of my parents and me. I gingerly picked it up and placed it on the round table next to the bed, my fingers grazing the frame.

I shook my head, banishing the aching in my chest and grabbed my night clothes from the trunk. I dressed as quickly as I could but only managed to get my trousers on when the door was pushed open. I shouted in surprise and covered my chest with the night shirt, jumping as I faced the door.

Harry and Ron stood in the doorway staring at me before Ron laughed. "It's just us."

I sighed and lowered the shirt, overjoyed that it wasn't Hermione or Ginny.

Harry closed the door as I got the night shirt on and climbed onto his bed. Ron got into his own bed, and I removed the trunks from mine.

Ron was asleep and snoring the moment he laid down, but I tossed and turned for a while. It was almost like my First Year at Hogwarts when I found out I had to share the dorm. Before then, I never had to share a room with anyone. I had gotten used to it at school, but it was kind of nerve wracking here.

What if I snored like Ron-although, based on how loud he was, that probably wouldn't be a problem. Or what if I talked or screamed in my sleep like Anthea said I did?

I wished Anthea was here. She could always calm me down with her understanding and talks. She went on and on about anything and everything, so it took a lot of the pressure off of me to come up with conversation starters. It was easy with her around.

I closed my eyes and was somehow able to fool myself into thinking that Anthea would wake me up in the middle of my nightmares, so I wouldn't scream.

* * *

Something hit me, and I jerked awake, grabbing my wand and sitting straight up.

"It's okay," Harry's voice assured. "You were just having a nightmare."

I glanced next to me and found Potter sitting up, covered in sweat. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and lowered my wand, placing it back on the bedside table. "Sorry. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Actually, we were already awake," Ron answered, the blue light of _Lumos_ brightening his side of the room. "You slept longer than both of us."

"If you could call that sleeping," Harry corrected. "Looked pretty rough. What was it about?"

I didn't answer, mostly because I barely remembered it. I only remembered being terrified and begging Lucius and Voldemort to stop hurting me.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and Ron got up and stumbled towards the door with a yawn. He opened the door and Hermione stood on the other side.

"You guys, too?" she said.

"Yep. Wanna come in?" Ron offered, opening the door a bit wider to admit her.

Harry reached under his bed and pulled out an old newspaper that had a photograph of him as Undesirable Number One on it. He crinkled the newspaper into a ball and got up from his bed, crossing in front of it and sitting on the floor. "Come on," he said, turning back to me.

I followed his lead and joined the other three on the floor. Harry charred the edge of the newspaper ball with his wand, creating a soft glow of firelight, and levitated the burning paper into the center of the four of us.

"So," Harry began, "what was everyone's tonight?"

No one spoke for a while, so Potter decided to say his piece. "I dreamt that when Voldemort killed me, there was no one there. Not Dumbledore, Sirius, Lupin or my parents. I was alone, and I didn't come back."

So Voldemort did actually kill him, but somehow he came back? I wanted to ask him how he came back in the first place, but it was a question for another time.

"I dreamed that I couldn't get to Hermione when she was facing down that snake," Ron muttered, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Hermione inched closer to him and gently wove her fingers into his. "Mine was about Bellatrix; but she wasn't torturing me this time." She looked up at Ron who gazed back at her.

"What about yours?" Potter voiced, turning to me. "What was yours about?"

I hesitated, trying to get myself to trust them. All three of them had seen my memories, and they were sharing their nightmares. They allowed me to stay here and had accepted me after all I caused.

"Lucius and Voldemort," I muttered. "They just hurt me in the cellar."

The four of us fell quiet, and I looked around at us all. Harry, Ron and Hermione were all covered in a thin layer of sweat, and their hair was a knotted and messy nest. Harry didn't have his glasses on, and I didn't have to look in a mirror to know that I looked as terrible as the rest of them.

"Well, we're all a mess," I breathed, glad that I could be the one to break the silence this time.

The other three glanced at me before starting to snicker, gradually turning it into full laughter.

"Shh!" Hermione hissed, straining to curb her jumping laughter. "We're going to wake everyone up."

"Nah," Ron dismissed, drawing Hermione closer. "They sleep way too deeply."

Ron planted a kiss on her cheek, making my stomach do a flip and Harry groan in disgust. "Come on, guys. Not while we're here," he complained.

"Hey. I'm finally in a relationship, so I'm going to enjoy it," Ron retorted.

"Yeah. You're welcome," I muttered, wishing I hadn't said it the moment the comment left my lips.

"And why do we have to thank you?" Hermione questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, as I recall," I began, pleading that I knew how to word this right, "I insulted you Second Year." I gestured to Hermione. "Then he wiped out his wand and said, 'Eat slugs!' Then his wand backfired, and it created a spark that evolved into the wonderful relationship you two now enjoy. You bonded over your mutual hatred for me."

I crossed my arms and leaned back into the foot of my bed, as Ron eyes drifted up, like he was trying to see into his own mind. "Holy crap, you're right," he gasped.

Ron's agreement renewed everyone's laughter, and I even found it within myself to join in quietly.

"Did you do that to Harry and Ginny, too?" Hermione wondered. "Push them together through mutual hatred of you?"

"Of course he didn't," Harry quickly denied.

"I don't think so," I agreed. "I think she just wore him down through constant begging."

"She did not beg," Harry corrected.

I shrugged. "Begging, crushing. Same thing really."

Potter suddenly grabbed another newspaper from under his bed, balled it up and threw it at me before I could duck. I genuinely laughed at his reaction.

"Of course, you'd make fun of our relationships," Ron voiced. "You've never had a crush on anyone, so you're just jealous." He drew Hermione closer and openly kissed her on the cheek.

Anthea suddenly came to mind, and I didn't know why.

"Draco," Hermione called, "you're turning red."

"What?" I pressed the back of my hand to my cheek and found that my face was hot.

"Do you like someone?" Potter interrogated.

"N-no," I stuttered. Why was I stuttering?

"O-oh. This I've got to hear," Ron mocked letting go of Hermione and leaning forward.

"I-I don't like anyone," I denied, Anthea coming to mind again. Why was I thinking about her? I didn't _like_ her, did I?

"Then why are you getting more and more red?" Harry questioned.

"Wait. Red like, Weasley's hair, red?" I wondered sarcastically, pleading that the conversation would move in a new direction.

"Sometimes you don't know you like someone even when you actually do," Ron said, ignoring my comment. "Is there anyone you even _think_ you could like."

I rubbed the back of my neck, debating whether or not I should say it.

"Spill!" Harry ordered.

"Her name was Anthea," I finally revealed, my cheeks growing hotter with flush.

"That's a pretty name," Hermione commented.

"How'd you meet?" Ron wondered.

"Was it at school or something?" Harry added.

"Actually she was guarding my cell in Azkaban," I informed.

The others fell quiet for a moment before Hermione asked, "Why'd you start to like her?"

I debated her question for a moment. "I honestly don't know. I think just I realized I liked her now. The Dementors in Azkaban seemed to really like me, and it got too cold for my body to handle, so I passed out, and the next thing I know, Anthea was shaking me awake and handing me a mug of hot chocolate. She made a fire in a jar and talked with me. She would come around every now and then, bringing me my meals and renewing the flame in the jar. We talked for a while, though she did most of the talking. She went on and on about the most random things, and she can't tell a joke to save her life." The corners of my mouth twitched up as I talked about her, one quality standing out above the rest. "I trust her."

Everyone was quiet again, and I could feel the others' eyes on me, but I didn't exactly mind.

Eventually, Ron cleared his throat. "So what did you think of your first night here?"

"It was…" I trailed off, trying to think of a nice word to describe it but found nothing. "Weird."

Harry and Hermione laughed again while Ron looked like I had insulted his mother. "What do you mean weird?"

"I mean you all stay at the table during dinner," I clarified, thinking of the countless times Lucius said that he had work stuff to catch up on and left me alone with my mother. "And you talk."

"What you didn't talk at dinner in your family?" Potter laughed.

"Not really, no," I sighed. "It was mostly just a lot of awkward silence and unnecessary etiquette."

"Well, that sounds...awful," Ron voiced.

"You guys eat like that every night?" I wondered.

"And breakfast," Hermione answered. "And lunch."

The others started to laugh again, but I didn't know what they were laughing at, so it was probably at my reaction.

The three eventually managed to quiet down, and Hermione stretched, getting to her feet. "We should probably head back to bed."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "You're probably right."

The newspaper Harry lit on fire instantly turned to ash, taking the light going with it. Hermione kissed Ron goodbye and left the room, closing the door silently. Harry and Ron climbed back into bed, and I did the same.

I laid down and covered myself with the comforter. For once, I was actually relaxed as I closed my eyes.

 **Hope you enjoyed, and fingers crossed that I can update Saturday! See you soon!**


	41. Chapter 41

**Good news, guys! I'm lucid! I had a medical thing (Nothing serious at all) but I was on some serious knock-out drugs, so I didn't know if I'd be lucid enough to update, but I am! Hooray!**

 **Anyways, hope you enjoy this new chapter! Disclaimer: I own nothing, though there is an OC named Anthea.**

 **Chapter Forty-one**

The next morning was the same as the night before in reverse. I got dressed, fought over the bathroom sink, spitting my toothpaste and water out of the window, and then we all met at the table for breakfast. I was much faster about gathering food this time. As soon as the others started to eat, I secured as many eggs, potatoes and biscuits as I thought I could eat before anyone else could get to them.

The family around me was just as loud and disruptive as the night before, but they quieted when George turned to me. "You're not gonna wear that, are you, Malfoy?"

"What?" I asked.

"We've got to work in the garden today," he answered.

"That's right," Missus Weasley added. And tomorrow's house work."

"Have you seen him at school?" Ron voiced, taking another bite of his eggs. "Black suits is his entire wardrobe. He can borrow some of mine."

"Nah. I think you're too big for him, Ron," George reminded . "Guess he's gonna have to borrow some of Harry's clothes. They're scrawny enough for each other."

"Hey!" Potter shouted, earning a snicker from George.

* * *

"Here," Harry muttered, tossing an old t-shirt and pair of trousers towards me. "Meet Ron and I out front when you're ready."

"Okay."

Potter left the room and closed the door behind him, allowing me some privacy as I changed. I tried not to think about the fact that they were not my clothes. They smelled clean, so I forced the fact from my mind.

I grabbed my wand and headed down the stairs to meet Harry and Ron outside as quickly as I could. Ron took one look at me in Potter's clothes and laughed wholeheartedly. "Never thought I'd see you wear his clothes. Despite what other people say."

"W-what do people say?" I stuttered, suddenly exceptionally uncomfortable in Potter's clothes as George's earlier comment came to mind.

Harry groaned and ran a hand down his face. "Trust me. You don't want to know. I've heard it all, and it's very weird. Let's just go."

Ron led us to the garden, and we got to work de-gnoming the grass and pulling weeds. It was dirty and I was covered in sweat after an hour in the summer sun. We pulled gnome after gnome out of the ground, throwing them as far as we could.

The Elves always did this kind of work when I was still at the manor. I didn't regret letting them go when I left, but I never wanted them back more.

It took all morning to de-gnome, weed and water the garden. It was mid afternoon by the time Ron said that we were finished. Molly allowed us back into her home, and I fell onto the sofa in their parlour, all lessons of manners and propriety leaving me instantly.

"Are you okay, Malfoy?" George laughed.

I glared at him, too drained to think of any sort of comeback.

"My gosh. Sor-ry," he responded, putting his hands up with a smirk on his face.

George walked off, chuckling to himself as Harry, Ron and Hermione appeared with glasses of lemonade.

"Ready to go again?" Ron asked.

"Nope!" I shouted as I sat up slightly, panicking at the thought of dealing with those idiotic gnomes again. "I quit."

The three of them laughed, and I joined after a moment, sitting back up.

Hermione handed me one of the two glasses of lemonade she was holding. "Don't worry," she said as she took a seat next to me. "We're done for the day."

"Thank goodness," I sighed, accepting the glass.

"Actually, it went a lot faster than normal," Harry pointed out, sitting in a chair nearby.

"Yeah. Usually it takes a lot longer than that. You helped a lot," Ron assured, taking a seat next to Hermione.

"Excellent job, kids," Molle congratulated, entering the parlour with a large platter of sandwiches. She held the platter out to the three of us, and we each took one or two. "Good work, Draco," she said as she passed me.

I froze at the compliment. It shouldn't be this strange for someone to say "good job", but it happened twice in one minute. It made my heart lighter, but it was also so foreign that I was scared to accept it.

"Hey, Malfoy!" George hollered, coming in from the hall. "You have a visitor."

"Uh. Who?" I wondered. Why would someone visit me?

"Just me," a voice said. One I recognized instantly. Anthea appeared around George and smiled at us all. "I hope you don't mind the intrusion, Missus Weasley, but I have something I need to discuss with Dra-Mister Malfoy."

"Of course not," Molly answered. "However, my I ask what it's about and whom I have the pleasure of opening my home to?"

"I'm Anthea, and as for why I'm here, Mister Malfoy can tell you if he wishes, but I have instructions from the Ministry to talk with only him," she answered.

"Are you alright with talking with her, Draco?" Molly asked, briefly taking my attention off of Anthea.

"Yeah," I said, straining to keep my voice steady as I became of how dirty I was. I must smell like I've been rolling around in the dirt all day-which I basically have been.

"Then may we talk outside?" Anthea requested.

I hummed in confirmation and got up from the sofa. Anthea smiled and nodded at Molly Weasley before turning around and walking back the way she came. I followed her out into the garden and closed the door behind me

She stopped and turned back to me, my heart beating faster with how close she was.

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked, taking a small step back from her in the hopes that my heart would stop racing.

Anthea held up an envelope. "Just this." She handed it to me. "You have no idea how many favours I had to pull to get here. Normally someone higher up on the Ministry food chain would do this, but I wanted to see you."

"Y-you did?" I stuttered, kicking myself for my unsteady voice.

"Yeah," she laughed. "It got quite boring after you left. I might be an Auror, but I'm just a guard, so it gets very boring very quickly. You might want to open that envelope, by the way."

"Oh."

I glanced down at the envelope in my hands and broke the wax seal on the back that had my family's crest burned into the middle. I took out the letter inside and read it. Then I read it again just to make sure I read it right the first time.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" I asked, looking back up at Anthea.

"Yeah," Anthea confirmed with a warm and congratulatory smile. "Your parents supposedly aren't...gone, but they _are_ fugitives from the law. And because they're Death Eaters, the Ministry counts them as enemies of the Wizarding World, and you were exonerated, so all of their assets just transferred to you."

"The house, too?"

"Yes. Whatever was theirs is now yours. And if you don't mind my asking, why aren't you staying there? At the manor house?" Anthea asked.

I sighed as I debated if I should answer. Harry, Ron and Hermione already knew, but I wasn't sure I should tell her. She might hate me if I told her that I allowed my house to be used for Death Eater meetings, but I trusted her, and trust was so hard to come by.

"I just...couldn't stay there with all that happened. Death Eaters liked to meet there often, so…" I trailed off as memories resurfaced again, my heart beating faster. Memories of Voldemort torturing Ollivander, me and my father and slaughtering those goblins.

"Hey," Anthea's soft voice called, a snapping in my ear bringing me back to the present. "Where'd you go this time?"

I didn't answer her. I might have told her, but she didn't need to know the details.

"Look. Whatever happened wasn't your fault. You didn't have a say or a choice," she assured, placing a hand on my arm.

Her touch made my heart rate skyrocket, but it wasn't from fear. She smiled softly at me, and I tried to smile back, but my stomach was in knots.

Anthea laughed lightly before letting go. "I've got to go back to work."

I nodded. "Okay," I said shakily.

Anthea smirked oddly before walking off down the path, and I ran back inside Molly's house and leaned up against the door, straining to get out of the heat and to find a moment alone to kick myself.

"Was that her?" Ron questioned, coming up to me from the hall with Hermione, Harry and George in tow. "Was that _the_ Anthea?"

I was too stunned to answer.

"Red face says it all," George mocked before raising his wand and Disapparating to who knows where.

"So that _was_ her," Harry voiced.

I rubbed the back of my neck, my nerves from talking to Anthea returning in a different way than before. Why was it so hot in here?

"She seems nice," Hermione said. "And Molly seems to like her."

"Yeah, well, my parents would hate her," I said, the words coming out before I could stop them.

"Why?" Harry wondered, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "Like Hermione said, she's nice. Why would they hate her."

"She's not a PureBlood from Slytherin; that's why," I answered, standing up.

"Well, don't tell me she's a MuggleBorn from Gryffindor because then I'll know that you really lost it," Ron laughed, getting me to smile a little.

"Actually she's a HalfBlood from Hufflepuff," I revealed, receiving a mocking mixture of gasps and laughter from the others. "Come on," I said as I started down the hall, my mouth turned up at the corners.

"...don't think we can afford to send her this year, Molly," Arthur Weasley's voice said.

"But Ginny's been begging to go back, and the danger's over," Molly returned.

"Yes, but the economy's down because of the war," Mister Weasley countered. "I'm getting paid less and have to work double overtime just to maintain my normal paycheck."

"Mum and Dad don't know if they can send Ginny back to school," Ron voiced. "Ginny wants to go for Quidditch, but we might not be able to afford it."

"I think I can help with that." I held up the parchment that contained both of my parents signatures. "Anthea just told me that all of my parents assets have been officially transferred into my name."

"So that means-"

"I'm a millionaire," I finished.

Ron caught my arm and dragged me into the parlour where Mister and Missus Weasley were talking. "Mum. Dad. Draco has something to tell you."

"I do?"

"You do."

"What is it, Draco?" Molly asked, both of them staring at me.

"We couldn't help but overhear your conversation as we were coming back," I began. In proper society, you weren't supposed to bring up finances with any adult. Even your parents. But I marched forward anyways, "and if you're having financial issues, I can help you. Anthea just said that everything my parents owned is now legally mine, and that includes their money. I can pay for Ginny to go back to Hogwarts."

"Well, that's wonderful, Draco, but we can't have you do that," Mister Weasley declined.

"No, I insist," I countered. "Its the least I can do for you after letting me stay here."

Molly looked like she was about to argue, but Ron cut her off. "Think about it. If Draco pays, Ginny can resume her education and even get scouted for pro Quidditch. Paying will make Draco happy, and we'll be under less financial strain. Everyone wins."

Molly and Arthur hesitated, but after a quick glance at each other, they looked back at me and nodded in approval.

I smiled bigger than I had in a while, my chest lightening with their acceptance. "Has Ginny gotten her book list yet?" I wondered.

"Arrived while you were working in the garden," Molly answered, approaching me with the parchment letter.

I glanced it over and found that it was a simple list of books that wouldn't be all that expensive, even for a new set. "We can head to Diagon Alley when you're ready. We'll need to stop by Gringotts, though so I can get the money."

Molly pulled me into a tight embrace, whispering thanks. I tried to return it, but being hugged was still uncomfortable.

* * *

We played Quidditch on a makeshift pitch in the back garden for the remainder of the day. We formed two teams out of the large family. Harry and I were both Seekers. Ginny and Molly were Chasers. Ron and Arthur were Keepers, and George was the Beater for both teams-which didn't work out well for me.

At least it allowed me a chance to see how Ginny really played. She, actually, was a great player. She scored most of the goals, and after the game, I was convinced that she could play professionally, but she needed a better broom if she wanted to.

The routine of dinner and getting ready for bed was the same as the night before, but I wasn't scared when I went to bed. I was excited. So excited that I couldn't sleep, like when I would toss and turn the entire night before Christmas when I was young.

Tomorrow, we would be going to Diagon Alley to get Ginny's things for school, and I was unbearably excited for her.

 **Hope you guys enjoyed! See you soon for the next chapter!**


	42. Chapter 42

**Hey, guys! Sorry for not updating yesterday, but something was up with my computer or something. Anyways. Here's the super short chapter 42!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

 **Chapter Forty-two**

The Weasleys, Harry, Hermione and I got to Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron, and we went straight to Gringotts. At first the goblins didn't believe that Lucius' money was now mine, but after shoving the paper Anthea gave me across the desk, they admitted me without question. I packed several hundred galleons into a bag without the others' knowledge, almost giddy with excitement.

We walked through Diagon Alley, going in and out of book and robe shops for Ginny, and I got more casual clothing so I could continue to work in the garden with the others and not have to borrow Potter's clothes.

When everyone decided to stop for lunch, Arthur insisted that he at least pay for the meals, and I didn't fight him.

When everyone was settling down into a booth, I caught Ginny's arm. "How often do you go into that Quidditch shop across the road?" I whispered.

"Just once or twice. Why?" she wondered, looking at me with suspicion.

I brought the pouch of galleons in between us and opened it slightly so that she could see the shining coins inside. "Ever wanted a Firebolt or official robes?"

Ginny's eyes widened at the sight of the money and looked up at me, nodding slowly.

I glanced at the others in the booth and already ordering. "Let's go, then. While they're distracted."

Ginny and I raced a subtly as we could through the cafe and onto the street.

"Why don't you want them to know?" Ginny wondered.

"Because. If your father found out I was paying for it, I think he might lose it," I reminded, earning a laugh from Ginny.

I opened the door to the Quidditch shop, and Ginny's eyes lit up like a child in a sweet shop. She raced through the aisles as she checked out each robe and broom she came across, her wide smile never leaving her face.

Eventually, she got caught choosing between a Nimbus 2001 and a Firebolt broom. "Which do you think?" she asked, holding both out for my inspection.

"I've flown the Nimbus, and I can tell you that it handles brilliantly, but I don't know much about the Firebolt. Just that it's faster then the Nimbus, and if you're a Chaser, speed is best," I recommended.

Ginny nodded and slowly replaced the black Nimbus where she found it and gripped the Firebolt. "Why're you doing this for me, Draco?" she asked, looking back at me seriously.

"You said you want to play professionally, and if you want scouts to look at you while you play, having a decent broom is a good part of it," I said, hoping that the explanation was satisfactory.

The truth was that I didn't know why I was buying her a broom. If I really wanted to help her family's financial situation, I should transfer a few hundred thousand galleons into their bank account, but instead, I was buying Ginny a new broom.

"No. Really," Ginny said, dismissing my explanation.

I hesitated, searching my mind for the real reason. "I don't know," I muttered, hoping she wouldn't hear. All I knew was that I was happier than I've been in the past three years. Why couldn't that be explanation enough?

Ginny nodded slowly. "Are you sure you want to get this for me? Can I pay you back or anything?"

I chuckled at her words. She sounded just like her father. "Absolutely not. I want to do this, so let me."

Ginny's mouth twitched up at the corner. "Let's check out, then."

We got through the line as fast as we could. The wait was long, but we arrived at the counter relatively quickly. I had to sign for the Firebolt because it cost over two hundred galleons, but it was worth it to see Ginny's smile.

We left the shop and were immediately overtaken by Mister Weasley. "There you two are!" He embraced his daughter as soon as he got to her. "We looked up, and you were gone." He took a step back and finally noticed Ginny's new broom. "What is that, and where did you get it?"

"Draco got it for me," Ginny answered, holding up the Firebolt. "I tried to talk him out of it, though."

"You didn't try very hard," I laughed under my breath.

"You didn't have to do that, Draco," Arthur said. "We have plenty of brooms at the Burrows."

"Yes, you do, Mister Weasley, but Ginny has said that she wants to play professional Quidditch, and a fast broom is the second best way to start. After having the talent for it," I dismissed, crinkling the signed paper of the broom's purchase behind my back.

"Can we-"

"I already offered, Dad," Ginny pointed out, cutting off her father. "He won't accept repayment."

Arthur sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Let's head on back to the cafe. The others are still enjoying lunch."

Mister Weasley held out a hand to guide Ginny in front of us both and back towards the cafe.

Arthur kept pace with me as we walked back. "Paying for Ginny's books, robes _and_ getting her a new broom? If you wanted to pay us back for letting you stay with us, you've done more than enough."

"Can't I just get her a broom because I want to?" I wondered.

Mister Weasley stopped us outside the cafe's doors, embracing me like he did his daughter. It was still a bit unnatural, but it was becoming slightly more normal.

We re-joined the others in the cafe and finished eating lunch with them. The others gawked at Ginny's new broom. Well, all except for Harry who already owned a Firebolt broom.

When we were finished, we departed Diagon Alley and went back to the Burrows. Ginny spent the remainder of the afternoon, zooming around in the air on her new broom. It made me smile to see her enjoying it so much, and I hoped it would allow her talent to grow enough to get her into a professional Quidditch team.

 **Hope you guys enjoyed! See you soon for the next chapter!**


	43. Chapter 43

**Hello, everyone! Sorry for the later update, but I'm doing it now! Better late than never! Hope you guys enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, though there is an OC named Anthea.**

 **Chapter Forty-three**

About a week went by, and the daily interactions with the Weasleys gradually normalised. The work around the house and the garden became easier and easier, and I grew accustomed to Molly's almost daily embraces, though I still didn't know how to react. I even got in touch with a real estate agent, and we discussed selling my parents' manor.

Whenever Harry, Ron, Hermione or I had a nightmare, we would stay up for a few hours talking about it and other things that happened that day. Sometimes, it was just one of us that had to be woken up in the middle of the night to prevent us from screaming, and at first, I felt terribly guilty when I was the only one. I apologized repeatedly, but they dismissed my words by saying that everyone needs to get it out somehow. I suppose that it was better to talk with them than anyone else, though. They knew everything that happened. They would understand my nightmares about Lucius better than anyone else.

The loud family dinners continued, and I got better at getting to the table in time and gathering food before it ran out.

"Dinner, everyone!" Molly hollered from the kitchen below.

I marked my page in the healing magic textbook I was studying and dropped it in my open trunk on the floor. I got up from my bed and raced down stairs before the others could get there. Particularly before George got there. He seemed to go out of his way to pull pranks on me.

As I got to the Weasley's small dining room, I found that everyone had changed out of their casual work clothes and were wearing nice-almost formal-clothes.

"Draco," Molly said, catching my attention. "What are you doing still wearing work clothes? Didn't George tell you?"

"Didn't George tell me what?"

"Oh, really? I thought I told you," George voiced, walking in behind Molly in a casual but nice black shirt and trousers. "You said you liked Anthea, so I invited her to dinner tonight before she left."

"What?" I exclaimed.

Anthea was coming to dinner? Why didn't he tell me? I couldn't be wearing these dirt-covered work clothes when she came.

"George," Molly reprimanded as she lightly slapped her son on the shoulder. He laughed softly at her reaction, an arrogant smirk on his face. "I'll deal with you later. Draco, go change. Quickly. She'll be here in about an hour."

I didn't wait for anyone to tell me different. I rushed as fast as I could back up the stairs and into the room I was staying in. I grabbed one of the black suits I packed and my toiletries and ran into the bathroom to find Hermione applying some kind of makeup.

"You taking a shower before she comes?" she asked, putting her makeup away in a small bag and approaching the door. "Did George 'forget' to tell you that she was coming?"

"Yeah. Sorry, but could you…" I gestured to the hall.

Hermione chuckled and nodded, leaving the bathroom.

I showered and changed as quickly as I could, hundreds of possibilities for how this dinner could go badly playing in my mind. All of them involved George making some inappropriate joke or everyone being as messy and loud as they always were. For the first time since I Apparated away from my parents during the Battle of Hogwarts, I wanted them back. They would be quiet, calm and proper, but then again, they might not let her in the house because she's not PureBlood.

I combed my white hair through one last time before dropping my toiletries back in the bedroom and heading down to the dining room.

My stomach was nothing but a bag churning of knots as I took my seat at the table, eyeing the empty place next to me. Many of the family was already seated, Harry, Ron and Hermione among them.

"No need to be nervous, Draco," Hermione comforted. "If you seem comfortable with the situation, she will be. It'll go smoother."

I nodded but thought of something else that I thought would be funny, and making the joke might distract me enough calm my pounding heart. "Or. I could just get a lightning scar, and she'll like me instantly."

Harry snorted as he covered a small laugh. "One," he held up a finger, "no, and two: you're being overdramatic. You'll be fine."

The remaining members of the family arrived at the table, and Molly Weasley placed steaming plates of food on the table. It looked like a nice meal, but I barely processed it. All I could think of was how the dinner was going to go.

"She's here," George called, coming down from the stairs. "Dad's all set up to greet her."

"Excellent," Molly praised as George took his seat. "Everyone needs to be on their best behavior for our guest tonight. Which means, George." The twin looked up at her, looking slightly confused. "Don't say anything you normally would."

The nausea eased with Missus Weasley's warning, but I was still unbearably terrified. I could almost equate it to my nerves when the Death Eaters met, but I didn't know why. They threatened my life. This was just dinner.

"Everyone," Mister Weasley called entering the room with Anthea behind him. "May I introduce Miss Anthea Baker."

The boys at the table and I all stood for her as she entered. I would have been shocked that the Weasleys actually knew proper etiquette, but I was too focused on Anthea. If she wore makeup before, I hadn't noticed, but she was wearing it now, and it brought out the hazel colour of her eye brilliantly. She was wearing a simple and modest black dress that hugged her hips. Her soft brown hair hung loosely around her shoulders as it normally did, but it somehow made her look more beautiful than she already was.

"Thank you, everyone." She smiled shyly, slowly approaching the table. "Nice to meet you all."

Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys took their seats, and Anthea took hers next to me. I was the last to sit. I mentally kicked myself for not sitting down with the rest.

To my surprise, the Weasleys ate slowly, each one filling their plates gradually. For the first time since I came here, it wasn't a race to see who could clear the table first.

The others made casual conversation with Anthea and each other, but I couldn't get a single word out. My nerves sealed my throat shut, and made me so nauseous that I could barely eat. I was acutely aware of how close Anthea was to me. Our legs brushed against each other if either of us moved too much, and it made my heart jump each time.

Eventually, Anthea turned to Mister Weasley at the head of the table. "I'm so sorry, but if their a lavatory nearby?"

"Yes. There's one down this hall, second door on the left."

"May I be excused, then?" Anthea requested.

"Of course, you may," Mister Weasley answered.

"Thank you." Anthea got up from the table and headed down the hall, giving me an encouraging smile before she exited.

I returned the smile, but dropped it the moment she was out of sight. I leaned over the table and pointed at George. "I am going to kill you," I hissed.

"Why me?" he laughed. "You're the one failing in front of your girlfriend."

"Well, I wouldn't be if you told me she was coming," I retorted.

"So she _is_ your girlfriend." George smirked arrogantly, leaning back in his chair.

I froze at his comment. Anthea wasn't my girlfriend, but I think I wanted her to be.

Anthea returned after a short while and retook her seat. "Sorry everyone."

"Not a problem," I assured.

Missus Weasley served dessert, and we spent about another half hour talking before Anthea did what she usually did and checked her watch. "Thank you so much for having me, Mister and Missus Weasley, but I actually have to take my leave," she sighed. "I have an early shift tomorrow and have to get home."

"Of course," Mister Weasley said and turned to me. "Draco, why don't you walk her out?"

I nodded and got up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. I winced internally at the harsh sound, pleading that Anthea didn't notice.

I walked with Anthea down the hall and to the front door. "It was a nice dinner," she said, stopping at the door.

"Yeah," I agreed, straining to keep my voice steady. "And it was nice to spend time with you that wasn't anything official."

She chuckled at the statement. "Yeah. It was."

I scoured my mind for something to say but found nothing. Why did I never have anything to say?

"Goodnight, Draco," Anthea voiced, placing a hand on the doorknob.

"Yes. Goodnight," I said, taking hold of the door as she opened it.

I watched her as she walked down the path. I wanted to spend more time with her tonight, but I couldn't keep her from her work.

"You should ask her out," a sudden voice suggested, making me jump and fall into the door.

I glanced behind me and found that Harry, Ron and Hermione were blocking the hall.

"What?" I gasped, still catching my breath from their scare.

"I said ask her out," Ron repeated.

"I can't do that," I refused. "I don't have anywhere to take her."

"We can work that out later. Just do it," Harry ordered, pushing me out the door and onto the porch.

I instantly stepped forward to come back inside, but Hermione closed the door before I could.

"Draco?" Anthea called with a laugh. "You okay?"

I took a deep breath and turned to face her. I stepped down from the porch and approached her, my heart hammering against my rib cage. "Yeah. I'm fine."

I massaged the back of my neck and cleared my throat as I searched my mind for the proper words, but it was as if every word in the English language had inexplicably vanished. But I decided to go for it anyway before I lost my already waning nerve. "I-I was-" my throat thickened as I stuttered, making me have to clear it again. "I was w-wondering if-"

"Draco."

"Hm?" I dropped my hand back to my side and looked back at Anthea, glad that she interrupted my failing words.

"Are you trying to ask me out?" she wondered.

I froze, slightly surprised that she figured it out from my stumbling speech. "Well. I-uh... Yeah."

Anthea laughed lightly and looked up at me. "Sure. I'd love to go out with you. And I have the perfect place to go." She smirked oddly as she spoke. "I'll send you an owl with the details."

"Okay. Great," I gasped, entirely relieved that she had a plan. "See you then? Er, your owl first, right?" Why couldn't I talk?

Anthea smiled, giving me a look of understanding-or pity? "Yes. Owl first," she laughed.

"Yep," I sighed.

Anthea turned and walked down the path a ways before Disapparating. I stood there numbly, staring at the place she once was.

What just even happened? She agreed to go on a date? With me? I met her in actual prison. She shouldn't be dating me. What was I thinking?

"How'd it go?" Potter's voice asked.

"I think we broke him," Ron added. "Hey!"

"What?" I shouted, jumping as Weasley snapped his fingers in front of my face.

"Did she say yes?" Ron pressed.

"Yeah."

"Congratulations," Potter said, slapping my shoulder lightly.

I sighed. "This was a bad idea."

 **Hope you like this chapter, and I'll see you soon for chapter 44!**


	44. Chapter 44

**Hey, guys! My apologies for not updating yesterday! I was super busy! But better late than never, right? Enjoy the new chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, though there is an OC named Anthea.**

 **Chapter Forty-four**

About another week passed and life with the Weasleys became a strange, new, pleasant kind of normal.

The process of selling my parents' manor house progressed gradually. We managed to get an advertisement in the paper, though no one had responded to it yet, and when Molly Weasley found out about it, she pulled me aside and asked me about it. I told her that I wasn't comfortable there anymore, but she wouldn't let the matter drop for the whole next day because that's what Ron had told her. Eventually, I sighed and gave into her.

"A lot of Death Eaters met there," I said. "The Death Eaters, Bellatrix, even Voldemort himself had meetings there. Voldemort tortured and killed people there. I can't stay there."

"Oh," she gasped, glancing down at her feet. "H-he never...hurt you...did he?"

My right hand started to shake like it did when I had nightmares, so I hid it behind my back, clasping my hands behind me.

Molly's eyebrows creased, and her shoulders slumped. "I'm so sorry." She pulled me into her arms and into one of her usual embraces, but it was firmer than usual. Like she was trying to force broken pieces of glass back together.

I thought I was getting better at figuring out her embraces, but this one threw me. It was like when Anthea would wake me in Azkaban after a nightmare. It made my heart constrict and my eyes prickle. Harry, Ron and Hermione might have seen everything, which comforted me when we talked about my nightmares, but this was different. It was calming and slowed the tremor in my hand, but the calm wasn't forced like my mother could somehow make happen.

Molly let me go but placed a hand on my shoulder. "If you want to take a break today, that's okay."

I was about to say that I was okay and didn't need to take the day off, but the words froze in my throat. In truth, talking about it had brought it all up again, and I didn't know if I'd be able to focus on the work.

"Why don't you head upstairs," Molly sighed.

I nodded and jogged up the stairs, retreated into my shared room with my textbooks. It was a lot quieter in the Burrows with Ginny and Hermione back at Hogwarts. George had also quieted down with Ginny's absence-I actually haven't seen him apart from dinner-so it allowed me an opportunity to study the healing magic in the textbooks.

I sat down on my bed, pulled a book from my trunk and opened it to the marked page. I tried to study the information written in the pages, but I couldn't focus. I had to read each sentence two or three times before I understood what it was saying. Images of the reason I opened a healing textbook in the first place kept flashing in my mind.

Talking about it with Missus Weasley was a bad idea. Normally I was able to distract myself from the memories with the work Molly had us do, but talking about it brought it all back to the forefront of my mind. I could talk about it with Harry, Ron and Hermione when I had nightmares, but not during the day where people could see.

I groaned in frustration and replaced the bookmark, tossing the book down on the mattress. I put my head in my hands and and tried to rub the memories out of my eyes, but it was no use. I was getting lost in a stream of never-ending flashbacks of torture and pain.

An insistent tap on the glass window reached my ears. I jumped and shouted in surprise, instantly snapping back to the present. I had to gulp down large breaths to try and slow my pounding heart.

The tapping came again, and I instantly turned to find an owl fluttering outside, pecking at the window.

It was just an owl. Not a Death Eater. An owl with a note attached to it and was trying very hard to fly through the glass. Not Lucius.

I sighed away my anxiety and got up from my bed, crossing the room to open the window. The owl glided through the window with a screech. The bird fluttered down onto my bedside table and held out his ankle. I carefully untied the note and broke the seal with my shaking hand. It was from Anthea with information about our upcoming date. Apparently, it was a surprise. She would Apparate to me at six tomorrow night, and she would take us to where we needed to go.

I ran my thumb over her curling signature at the bottom of the parchment. The thought of Anthea was more effective at keeping the racing memories at bay than my own efforts were. When we first met, I thought she would betray me somehow, but those doubts silenced with the time we spent together, surprising me.

* * *

"Okay. So for your date tonight, you need to dress fancy, but not too fancy because it might put her off if you're too upscale," Harry instructed.

"So he just has to dress how he normally dresses?" Ron mockingly wondered.

I huffed in amusement as I picked up one of my black suits and my toiletries. "If it's all the same to you, I'm gonna take a shower and actually get dressed, now."

"Yes. Go," Harry almost shouted, waving me off.

I moved into the bathroom and closed the door, doing exactly what I said. I took my time to make sure I looked the best I could for Anthea. I'm not in Azkaban anymore, so I couldn't still smell like I was.

I made my way back to my shared room and replaced my toiletries in my trunk, combing my hair through one last time.

"Good luck tonight, mate," Ron said, slapping my back before heading downstairs with Potter.

Did he just call me "mate"? He's never called me mate before.

I bided my nerve-filled time by reading one of the textbooks I brought with me, forcing myself to focus on the book instead of the fact that my date with Anthea in only a few hours.

But the time went by faster than I thought it would. It was six o'clock before I knew it, and I rushed downstairs, smoothing out the wrinkles in my suit. The members of the Weasley family-and Harry-wished me luck as I exited the house, and I took deep breaths to try to silence my nerves.

Anthea appeared at the end of the path that led to the house, wearing a casual patterned top and jeans. We met up halfway between us. "Ready to go?" she asked.

"I'd be a lot more ready if I knew where you were taking me," I answered, earning a laugh from Anthea.

"Trust me," she assured. "You'll have fun."

I internally recoiled when she told me to trust her, but I didn't know why. I did trust her, so why did the request make me feel like I couldn't?

Anthea took my hand and lifted her wand, making us both Disapparate. We appeared in an alley behind a building, but Anthea quickly dragged me around the corner and into an open space filled with Muggles and their vehicles. Ahead of us was a large building with large, glowing letters that spelled out "Arcade."

I turned to Anthea in confusion. "What is this?"

"It's called an arcade."

"Yeah, I can see that. " I gestured to the bright sign. "But what is it?"

Anthea smirked and rolled her eyes. "An arcade is a building filled with what are called video games and claw machines. They are a popular Muggle pastime." She started to walk towards the building, and I followed closeby her. "My father would take me here when I was a kid. I always had fun, so I figured that we could have fun here, too."

I followed Anthea through the doors and to an odd machine. She inserted some Muggle money into it, and a plastic card popped out. She accepted the card and took off through the Muggles crowding between the rows of blowing and beeping machines. "Come on!" she called.

Anthea taught me multiple Muggle games. I didn't tell her, but if I'm being honest, it was very strange and uncomfortable to be playing them. The machines responded to small touches like some spells did, and if you won, bright letters appeared on the screen and loud, jarring noises blared from it to tell you that you did, small paper tickets spitting out of the bottom of it.

After a while of playing "video games", Anthea led me to a ramp that had three rings on the wall at the end with three-digit numbers printed on each ring. Anthea messed with the machine for a minute, causing a row of balls to slide down into a slot next to the ramp.

"Okay. you grab a ball, roll it up the ramp and aim for the center ring," Anthea explained. "Don't toss it over hand. Roll it up the ramp, and if you're feeling lucky, you can aim for the smaller tubes up in the corners."

She leaned down and picked up one of the heavily scratched balls and handed it to me. I shrugged and went with it, doing as she instructed. Apparently, there was no way to lose this game as long as you got the points.

Eventually, we each had a fist full of strips of tickets, and Anthea pulled me over to a desk that had rows of prizes behind it. Anthea took the tickets from my hand and submitted them to the man behind the desk. She asked for the man to come closer and whispered something in his ear.

The man turned around and reached into box under a shelf, taking out two stuffed dogs and handing them to Anthea. She turned to me and presented one of the animals to me. "Surprise!"

I smiled at her and rolled my eyes as I took the toy from her. I never had any stuffed toys as a child, and I didn't think I'd enjoy them now. She seemed happy to give it to me, though, so I didn't mind taking it.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving," she said, pulling me away from the counter. "Let's get some food. How 'bout pizza?"

"What's pizza?" I asked, having never heard the word before.

"Do PureBloods really know so little about the Muggle world?" she laughed, stopping me at a different counter that had glowing signs above it with pictures of different Muggle foods.

Anthea stepped up to the counter and ordered two slices of pepperoni pizza. They got the "food" to her quickly, and she led me to a small, round table and sat down. I followed her lead, and she handed me a paper plate with the triangularly shaped pizza on it. The thing on the plate was so covered with grease that it didn't even look edible.

"At least try it, Draco," Anthea encouraged.

I looked at her, mentally asking her not to make me eat it.

"Come on. Don't you trust me?"

"I do," I sighed, picking up the slice.

I took a small bite of the pizza, resisting the urge to hold my breath as I swallowed. It actually wasn't that bad, but it wasn't what I was used to, either. I placed the pizza back on the plate and glanced at Anthea but found her looking down with her eyebrows drawn together and her shoulders tensed.

"Are you okay?" I wondered. I reached out to touch her shoulder but thought better of it, placing my hand back on the table.

"Yeah," she muttered. "I'm fine." She jerked her head up to look at me, a thin smile stretching across her face. "Do you like it? It's okay if you don't, but I'm glad you tried it."

I nodded. "It's not bad. Not normal food, but it's not bad."

"Good." She smiled a bit too hard.

I've put on a fake smile and an appearance that I was fine so many times that it was easy to recognize that Anthea was doing the same thing. "Seriously, though. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she laughed, dismissing her behavior with a wave of her hand. "Just something at work." She glanced at her watch. "We should probably get going, actually. It's already ten."

Anthea grabbed the two stuffed dogs and stood. I followed her lead, trailing slightly behind her as she walked out of the building. I scanned her expression as we walked, hoping that she wouldn't catch my gaze. There was something going on, but she wouldn't tell me. I wanted to help her, but with no information to act on, I had no idea how.

Anthea led me to the same alley we appeared in and took hold of my hand. She Apparated us away from the arcade and back to the field and dirt path outside of the Burrows.

"Here you go," Anthea sighed, holding the stuffed, toy dog out to me again.

I gave her a small smile and took it from her. "I had a good time. It was fun."

"Glad you thought so," she responded.

"Hope everything gets sorted out at work." I watched her gaze, waiting for her reaction.

Anthea hesitated for only a second before sighing with another forced smile. "Yeah. Me too."

Her hand brushed by mine, and she leaned in closer. My heart jumped, and I moved to close the distance between us, but she pulled back, clearing her throat.

"Sorry," we both said.

"I've got to go, but feel free to write to me," Anthea added.

I nodded in answer, and she turned down the path, walking away a few steps before Disapparating.

I started down the path in the opposite direction, heading towards the Burrows. In truth, I did enjoy spending time with Anthea, but there was something off about her. She was nervous about work, but it seemed to relate to me somehow. I hated to think that she was lying to me, but she might be. Anthea might be hiding what was happening at her work because it was something small that could be sorted out quickly, or because it was the exact opposite.

I had to give her the benefit of the doubt. For the past three years, I've always had to second-guess both myself and everybody else. Anthea was the first person I didn't have to do that with since the beginning of those three years. I had trust her until she proved otherwise.

 **In all honesty, I mostly paired Draco up with a HalfBlood because I wanted to see him do Muggle things. The other reason will become more clear later. Hope you enjoyed it, and see you soon for chapter 45!**


	45. Chapter 45

**Hello, everyone! This update is in celebration of the official start of Spring Break! Hope you guys enjoy this feel-good chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Chapter Forty-five**

The process of selling my parents' manor house progressed greatly. Apparently many people wanted to own the house of "Draco Malfoy: The Reformed Death Eater." The real estate agent I contacted was helping me sort through the offers, though he seemed terribly uncomfortable during our meetings. He kept glancing at the deep scar on my left wrist, but I suspected that it wasn't the scar he was afraid of.

In the meantime, I looked into Wizarding medical schools. After the manor sold, I would have enough money to pay for any school I wanted, so it was difficult to choose between them all. I weighed the good and the bad of each school and even sent an owl to Madam Pomphrey to gain her advice.

It was almost Halloween when the real estate agent suggested the best offer-it would make me a multimillionaire if I took it. I agreed with the agent and was relieved when the manor was out of my hands. A large and friendly family bought it. Their youngest child was in their third year, and they had many extended family members move in with them. The house would actually get used now. When my parents and I lived in it, not even half the house got visited on a daily basis.

The parents of the family asked if I wanted any of the family photographs that were stored in the house, but I refused them. They were all staged for the public anyway. "Just toss them out," I sighed.

"Only if you're sure," the mother of the family cautioned.

"I'm sure."

A hand grabbed my left wrist, and I instinctively yanked it back, glancing at who had taken hold of me. It was the youngest member of their family. Hogwarts must have allowed them to leave the school during their family's move.

"Can I see the Mark?" he asked, a bright hope ringing in his voice.

It was then I noticed his blue and silver Ravenclaw tie. "I'd rather you didn't. I have to go anyways," I muttered, looking back towards the parents. "Hope you enjoy it here."

I turned my back to them and walked out the open front doors.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to ask people about things they might not want to talk about?" the mother's voice hissed. She was probably reprimanding their Ravenclaw son, but I didn't turn back to check.

I pulled the door closed behind me and marched down the path leading away from the manor. I still didn't know how I felt about selling it. I couldn't stay here. It wasn't home anymore, but I still spent most of my life here.

My hand lingered on the black gate that I would touch for the last time in my entire life. An odd combination of relief and regret rose within me at the thought.

I wouldn't get anywhere hanging on to this place. Nothing good happened within it, but with the new family living here, maybe it finally would.

I turned my back on the house and its gate and walked a few more steps down path, raising my wand as I walked. I Disapparated and appeared in the Weasley's garden. I arrived at their door and habitually knocked, being immediately greeted by Missus Weasley.

"How did it go?" she wondered, embracing me as she usually did.

"They seem nice enough," I answered as I backed away. "And the fact that I'm now a few million galleons richer doesn't hurt."

Molly laughed lightly as she let me in the house. "Oh. By the way. An owl came for you from Madam Pomphrey." I closed the door behind us as Molly reached into a bowl by the window and handed me a sealed letter. "I didn't know you wrote to her."

"Yeah," I sighed, taking the letter from her. "Thanks. I wrote to her about Wizarding medical schools. With the money I got from the house, I can afford to go anywhere I want. It's a lot to choose from, and I asked her advice."

"You're going to be a Healer?"

"Well, I'm gonna apply anyways."

"You'll get in," she comforted. "I'm sure of it."

"Thanks."

I took the letter and retreated upstairs into my room I was sharing. I took a seat on my bad and broke the seal on the letter. I pulled the parchment out and took in Madam Pomphrey's advice. She told me about the school she attended as well as two others she looked into but wasn't able to afford. She gave me a list of benefits and drawbacks of each school in terms of education as well as social life, though I didn't plan on doing much socializing. But what really stuck out from her letter was the last paragraph.

 _I'm so glad that you decided to continue studying healing. And that's not just my bias, I really am happy about it. I think that it will be good for you in more ways than one. If you ever need to talk to someone about anything, you can always write to me. I'll even help you with your studies if you need it._

 _Madam Pomphrey._

* * *

In the days that followed, I chose a school and sent an owl to Madam Pomphrey, telling her which I chose. I applied and...donated to the school to boost my chances of entry considering that I didn't even start my Seventh Year of Hogwarts.

Eventually, I received an owl and a thick envelope from the medical school, but I was afraid to open it. I didn't know if I got in or not, and I was scared to find out. So I kept the letter with me, waiting to build up the nerve to read it. Harry and Ron kept asking when I would find out if I got in or not because they already got in to their Auror school and were set to start the spring term. I continually lied to them by saying that the letter hadn't come yet, but I didn't know how long I could put it off.

Ginny sent Harry, the Weasley's and I a letter telling us about an important Quidditch match she was going to play. Talent scouts were starting to take a look at the teams, and she was nervous about what they'd say. Harry, Ron and I decided to go to the game and support her. The others couldn't attend because they were all working, and Molly said that she had to stay behind to watch the house.

Harry, Ron and I met up with Hermione in the Gryffindor stands and anxiously waited for the teams to come out.

"Thought you'd be in the Slytherin stands," Hermione shouted over the crowd.

"I'm here for Ginny. Not for me," I yelled back. "Besides. Slytherin isn't even playing."

The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams soared in on their brooms, and Ginny was ahead of them all on her Firebolt. The game was fast-paced and never stopped moving. Ginny had the quaffle more times than anyone else, and her broom made her nothing but a streak of scarlet and gold flying through the air. There was a moment or two where I thought Gryffindor was in trouble, but they quickly recovered and won the game.

The four of us met up with Ginny near the Quidditch Pitch, though it was somewhat difficult to talk to her due to the many congratulations other students were giving her. "I can't thank you guys enough for coming," she said as she gave Harry and Ron a one-armed embrace, still holding onto her broom. "And thank _you_ for the boom."

Ginny moved to hug me as well, but I froze. I had gotten used to Molly Weasley, but hugs, in general, were still uncomfortable for me. I opened my arms, and she took that as permission to hug me.

"And like I said before, the broom was my pleasure," I reminded. "You played brilliantly."

"Thanks," she laughed, waving to some friends behind me.

"Mister Malfoy!" a voice called.

I turned to find Madam Pomphrey fighting a crowd of students to get to the five of us.

"Hello, Madam," I greeted as she got to us.

"You never told me if you got in or not," she said quickly, a bit of accusation in her voice.

"Got in where?" Ginny wondered.

"Draco applied to a Wizarding medical school, but he hasn't heard back from them yet," Ron explained.

I sighed. I didn't have to lie about anything anymore, so why was that always my first instinct now? "Actually, I got a letter from them about two weeks ago, but I haven't opened it yet."

"What? Why not?" Hermione exclaimed.

"You're not scared, are you?" Harry mocked.

I rolled my eyes at him. "I've got it here, if you want to know."

"Yes! Open it," Pomphrey ordered.

"Okay, okay," I laughed, taking the letter out of the pocket inside my suit jacket.

I took a deep breath as I broke the seal and opened the letter. I pulled one of the pieces of parchment from the envelope and skimmed it, my eyes widening as I read.

"What's it say?" Hermione wondered.

"I-I got in," I breathed.

"Really?" Ginny shouted.

"Congratulations!" Madam Pomphrey said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"We gotta celebrate somehow," Ron said.

"Stay for dinner, then," Ginny suggested. "It's only an hour or so away."

"An hour or so is a long time when you don't have classes, Ginny," Harry reminded.

"Oh, right!" Hermione gasped. "Classes."

Hermione grabbed Ginny's hand and pulled her off, joining the last of the students into the castle.

"Has she always been like that?" I wondered, turning to Harry and Ron.

"Yes," they both answered.

"I think you should stay for dinner, though," Madam Pomphrey voiced. "I have the perfect plan for you, Mister Malfoy."

"Then what do we do?" Ron asked, looking slightly offended at not being included.

"I'm sure we can think of something," Harry said, slapping Ron on the shoulder.

"We can?"

"Yes," Harry answered, drawing out the word as he raised an eyebrow at Ron.

"Oh! Yes. We can think of something," Ron agreed.

What were they up to?

"Okay, then. Will you come with me, Draco?" Pomphrey asked.

"Yeah," I answered, following her into the school.

It was strange to be back in Hogwarts. Last time I was here, it looked and felt like the end of the world, and the time before that, I was planning a murder. Now, I was back in Hogwarts School like it was any other year. The building was repaired, leaving no trace of the death and destruction that raged through the halls. No dark presence of Dementors or Death Eaters loomed over me.

Madam Pomphrey led me to the school's infirmary and into her office. "I know you know a little about healing injuries, but there's more to healing than a few spells," she informed, turning to me. "There are a few students in here with a stomach virus that's been going around. I've been giving them a potion to slowly get rid of the virus, but why am I not just eradicating it now with a spell?"

It took me a second to figure out that it wasn't a rhetorical question, and when I finally did, I ran through my memories of what I read about healing magic. "Because the body needs to learn to overcome the virus and other sicknesses on its own, so it doesn't depend on magic and forget how to repair itself."

"You've been reading."

I shrugged, earning a small smile from Pomphrey.

For about an hour, I watched the experienced Healer mix potions and measure them into doses. She gave them to the few students who were doing school work in their beds. They each groaned and gagged at the taste, but they swallowed it down anyways.

Quiet sniffling reached my ears as Pomphrey prepared the last dose of the potion. I tried to peer around the curtains between the beds to see who was crying, but I couldn't get a good enough angle.

"Why don't you give this one to the last student," she suggested, handing me a small cup with the potion inside.

I nodded and took the cup from her. "Sure. Last bed on the right, yes?"

"Yep." Madame Pomphrey quickly retreated into her office and closed the door behind her.

I walked through the aisle and found the last student: a Slytherin First Year who was sniffing and wiping his nose on a tissue, his eyes red and watery.

"Hey," I called softly getting him to look up. "What's your name?"

"Stephen," he mumbled, crumpling his tissue in his hands and placing them in his lap.

"I'm-"

"Yeah. I know who you are," he interrupted.

"Okay," I breathed. "I've got your medicine." I held out the cup for him, but when he didn't take it, I pulled up a stool and took a seat. "Why were you crying?"

"I wasn't," he snapped.

"Come on. I can still see your tissue."

Stephen balled up his tissue even more and hid it underneath his leg.

"If we talk quietly enough, the others won't hear us," I whispered.

When Stephen still didn't react, I sighed and stood up, placing his potion on his bedside table. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but you still have to drink that," I said, giving him a small smile.

Stephen scowled, but I ignored it. I turned around and took a few steps away from his bed. I knew enough about crying alone to know that despite what Stephen said, he wanted to talk. My offer and the fact that he already knew who I was might make him familiar enough with me to do just that.

"I didn't want to be Slytherin," Stephen muttered.

I paused and turned back towards him, retaking my seat on the stool. "Why not?"

"No one likes that House. Everyone who goes into it is a Death Eater."

"Not everyone Slytherin is a Death Eater," I said. "I'm not."

"But you were."

I instinctively grabbed my Marked wrist at the reminder. "There were Death Eaters from other Houses, too. Some still wore their House colours under their robes. There were some Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, too. Slytherin doesn't mean Death Eater."

Stephen looked up at me, skeptical.

"Not all Gryffindors are brave," I voiced, thinking of Wormtail. "Not all Hufflepuffs are weak." I thought of Anthea. "And you don't have to be a Ravenclaw to be smart." Hermione came to mind.

"Can't help but notice that you didn't say anything about Slytherin," Stephen pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"Slytherins are different than the other Houses," I sighed. "We look at things in different ways than they do. We break rules because we need to, while Gryffindors do it on a dare. We choose not to fight today in order to do so in a better way tomorrow. We make good spies."

"And I suppose that you were that spy in the Death Eaters' ranks, right?"

"Sort of."

"Prove it."

I hesitated before unbuttoning my cuff covering my Mark. I kept the back of my hand facing Stephen, so he wouldn't see the Mark but the curved scar from Bellatrix. "I tried to leave them. I thought I didn't need to be on the inside anymore, but they got to me, and they hurt me." Stephen's eyes widened at the scar, and he glanced up at me. "Slytherin doesn't mean evil. It means you're different in a good way." I lowered my hand and quickly buttoned the cuff back up.

Stephen reminded me of the other students when I was a First Year. Some of them were the only Slytherins in their family, and they were just as upset about it as Stephen. The older students practically held therapy sessions in the common room to try and comfort them.

I picked the cup filled with Stephen's potion again and held it out to him. "Now will you drink it? You want to get better, don't you?"

The First Year gave me the smallest of smiles and took the cup, putting it to his lips and swallowing it with one quick flick of his wrist. He gagged and stuck his tongue out, squeezing his eyes shut. "This stuff is disgusting."

"Yeah. Glad it's you taking it and not me," I voiced, taking the cup from him and standing back up.

I tossed the disposable cup in a trash bin and knocked on Madam Pomphrey's door. She opened it quickly and invited me in. "How did it go?"

"Fine," I answered.

"Still want to be a Healer after today?"

"Yeah," I laughed. "Thank you for teaching me today."

"Not a problem," she dismissed. "Just trying to give you a little extra support going into school. Must be hard enough already."

"Yeah. I think I'm the first one in my family to make healing their profession," I added, purposely ignoring her subtext.

* * *

Dinner came quickly. I met Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny at the door, but I habitually parted ways with them and took a seat at the Slytherin table. By the time I realized what I did, I was already blocked in on all sides by other students and the others were sitting together amongst the Gryffindors.

It was odd to eat in the Great Hall again. Not including the fact that the last time I was here, it was filled with the dead and injured, I wasn't nauseous like during my Sixth Year. The fact almost surprised me.

Eating with the Weasleys had gotten me into the habit of scarfing food down without tasting it, so I managed to get one plate of food into me before the students around me realized who I was. All of them bombarded me with questions-most of them were asking for a picture with me or an autograph.

I glanced up towards Potter at the Gryffindor table and gestured around me in question. Harry shrugged and mouthed, "Ignore them."

I took his advice and let the students' continued questions wash over me until they blended in with the noise of the rest of the hall. My parents were well known, and as a result, I was in the papers often as a child so I knew how to handle non-stop photography, but beyond being the son of Lucius Malfoy, I was never famous; now that the war was over, and I was in the news alone, I was just as famous as Harry Potter for being the only "Reformed Death Eater". Now, all of the questions that used to be directed towards Lucius were directed towards me. It was a bit overwhelming.

After what felt like forever, Harry and Ron got up from their seats and walked towards the door, repeatedly glancing behind them. They turned at the threshold of the door and came towards me. "We need you," Harry muttered.

"Why?" I asked.

"Just come on." Harry grabbed my arm and pulled me up from my seat. "We'll tell you on the way.

Once we were maneuvering through the corridors, Ron blurted out, "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can. You're just nervous. You'll be fine," Harry comforted.

"Do what?" I wondered.

"Propose," Ron clarified, taking a small, velvet box out of his pocket.

A ring box.

"Always knew you and Hermione would end up together," I said.

I followed Harry, keeping Ron in between us in case he tried to back out. It was kind of fun, dragging him through the corridors and into the library. It made me almost jittery with excitement.

"Okay. I'll summon those birds Hermione likes to make when she comes in," Harry informed. He turned to me. "You hide somewhere and dim the lights."

"And all of us will make those little flames in a jar she used to make," Ron finished.

The three of us got to work, though it was mostly Harry and I making the flames. Ron spent nearly the entire time pacing, taking the ring out of his pocket and checking it before putting it back and repeating.

"She should be here by now," Ron muttered.

"Not for another five minutes," Harry reminded. Ron groaned and resumed pacing the length of the aisle of books. "We'll make this last flame, and then Draco and I will hide, okay?"

"Okay," Ron sighed.

I felt bed for him. He didn't need to be so nervous. From what I've seen, Hermione loved him as much as he loved her.

Harry and I placed the jars of flames on the floor to make a path extending from the door and traveling through the aisles of books to Ron, who was still pacing. When we were done, Harry and I each picked a hiding place behind different rows of books and waited for Hermione.

After a few minutes the door opened, a Ron froze. Soft and careful footsteps sounded, coming closer with each step. Hermione appeared after a moment, and Ron instantly dropped to one knee. I took that as my cue. I waved my wand and dimed all of the lights except for the flames we made, and a flock of small birds appeared, flying through the bookshelves and surrounding the two.

Ron felt around his jacket, a panic-stricken expression colouring his features. Hermione laughed quietly as Ron dropped to the floor and checked under the table, coming back up with the small red box.

Ron got back up on the traditional one knee and started his speech. Or tried to. He stuttered worse than I did asking Anthea out on a date. He stumbled through words of how he would take care of her and love her and wanted to spend forever with her. Hermione looked down to him, a small smile on her face as she mercilessly allowed him to stumble through.

Finally she took pity on him. "Stop, please," she laughed, taking his arm and pulling him up from the floor. "Of course I'll marry you."

Ron sighed in relief and nearly fell into the table behind him. Hermione caught him before he fell and pulled him into a kiss.

I dropped my gaze to the floor to give them a little privacy and to save myself from having to watch.

"You two can come out, now," Ron called. "We're done."

"Two?" Hermione questioned.

Harry readily came out from behind his bookcase, and I cautiously followed his lead, coming out from behind mine.

"Congratulations," I said.

"Now you just got to pick a date," Harry reminded.

"Not now," Ron snapped. "I had to get through this first."

Hermione snorted with laughter, and the rest of us gradually joined in.

 **It took me weeks to write this chapter just because I was fangirling over the Romionie cuteness! Hope you enjoyed, and see you soon for chapter 46! Just 5 chapters remain in this fanfiction. Thank you to all who have read!**


	46. Chapter 46

**Hey, guys! Time for a new chapter! It's a little shorter than normal, but there are only four chapters left in this story. The rest of the chapters will be short and jump through a lot of time. Hope you still enjoy it!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, though there is an OC named Anthea.**

 **Chapter Forty-six**

Christmas came quickly as Harry, Ron and I prepared to part ways and go to our individual schools: me to medical school and Harry and Ron to an Auror academy. We each got our books and proper robes, and I slipped a few galleons to them both to help them get nicer sets that would last longer.

Hermione and Ginny came home for Christmas break, and we had the greatest time on Christmas Eve night. Molly made a large feast, and we all exchanged gifts. I didn't know the Weasleys all that well, so I got them what I though they would like. I got Ginny a durable Quidditch set so she could practice while at home, and I got Hermione a nice set of factual books about Hogwarts. I had to go on Harry and Ron's advice for the rest of the gifts, but I think it went over well.

I was still reeling from the fact that they actually got me something. Of course, George got me a gag gift that was the most ridiculous thing I ever saw, but I couldn't help but laugh. Missus Weasley made me a thick, green jumper with a silver snake stitched on the font in the shape of an "M". Ron and Harry openly laughed as Molly repeatedly requested that I put it on, and after a minute of her urging I groaned and gave in. The jumper was stuffy, and the wool scratched my skin, but it was better than anything my parents had ever gotten me. All of the Weasley children, including Harry and Hermione, received jumpers, too, but theirs were maroon with gold stitching. The Weasleys' jumpers had a "W" across the front, Harry's had a "P", and Hermione's had a "G". Everyone put theirs on as Mister Arthur Weasley set up a camera on a tripod.

The gifts they gave me were small and inexpensive, but they were the best that I have ever received, and it was even better to watch them open what I had given them. My wrapping job was shoddy at best, but I didn't think they minded.

Once Mister Weasley had finished setting up the camera, the whole family-including Hermione and Harry-lined up to take a photograph in front of the hearth. I offered to take it so Arthur wouldn't have to put it on a timer and rush into the frame, but he refused.

"You're part of us, now," he said. "You've got to be in it, too."

I briefly wondered if he actually meant it or if it was some sort of trick or prank, but when Mister Weasley waved me towards the rest of them, I knew that it wasn't a lie of any kind. He really meant it.

I dashed towards the rest, and they readily took me in. I stood beside Harry, while Ron and Hermione took their place on his other side. Mister Weasley set the timer, raised his wand and Apparated the few feet towards us, appearing beside his wife. We all looked towards the camera, and the bulb flashed a second later.

The others cheered and embraced each other, and I got squished into some awkward group hug between Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

Mister Weasley plucked the camera from the tripod and took it into another room, while the rest of us took the presents we received and inspected them further.

Arthur said I was part of them. Part of their family. And he meant it. The Weasleys were loud and annoying, and they were so many in number that I had to choke down mouthfuls food in order to get any at all and spit my toothpaste out of the window because the sink was always taken. Nothing about them was proper or orderly, but at the same time, I wouldn't want them to be.

Somewhere along the way, Ron, Ginny, George and the rest of them became the siblings I always wanted, Harry and Hermione became the genuine friends I never had, and Molly and Arthur became better parents to me then Narcissa and Lucius ever could be.

Never in my life had I imagined that I would be happy to be a Weasley.

* * *

It was the last day of Christmas break, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and I were packing our things for school. I still can't believe that I made it. I went from healing Luna and Ollivander in the dark to medical school.

"Meet you downstairs," Harry voiced as he picked his trunk and went out the door, Ron following close behind.

I was almost finished packing. I closed the lid of my first trunk and engaged the latches, but I caught sight of the frame I brought with me from my parents manor. I had placed the photograph the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione and I took in front of it frame without thinking the night we took it, covering up the image of my parents and me. I picked up the frameless picture-almost laughing at how my green jumper and white hair stood out amongst the sea of red-and glanced at the photograph of my parents. I can't remember the last time I had looked at it.

Part of me wanted to leave the photograph here, but a different part wouldn't let me. As much as I wanted to deny my parents' existence, I couldn't.

I placed both photographs inside my second, book-filled trunk and latched it shut. I hauled both trunks off of the bed and dragged them out the door.

"Draco!" Molly's voice called as I descended the stairs. "Anthea's here for you!"

Anthea? She didn't tell me she was coming. I was delighted that she was here, but the fact that she showed up unannounced most likely meant that she was here on Ministry business.

I placed my trunks in the parlour and headed towards the door, finding Missus Weasley chatting with Anthea in the doorway.

"Hey, Draco," Anthea sighed. "I'm sorry Missus Weasley, but do you mind if Draco and I talk out here?"

"Not at all," Molly dismissed. "It's wonderful to see you." She moved away from the door and allowed me through.

I stepped out into the crisp, winter air and closed the door behind me. "Hey. What's going on?"

Anthea grimaced and placed a hand on the back of her neck uncomfortably. I remembered her actions towards the end of our date a while back. She was acting just as nervous. "Remember that thing I told you about at work?"

"So it is about me," I confirmed, getting her to jump in surprise. "I've gotten pretty good a reading people," I said, answering her unspoken question.

"Okay, well…" She trailed off, clearing her throat. "Um. Part of the reason-not the _whole_ reason. Just part of it. Part of the reason I agreed so readily to go out with you is because...Oh, my gosh," she whispered. "Well, the Ministry sort of...wanted to keep an eye on you. And they asked me to do it."

I took a step back from her, my chest tightening as I tried to process what she was saying.

"Look. It was up to me how I watched-kept in contact with you," Anthea informed. "I _wanted_ that date with you. The Ministry didn't _make_ me do that or anything."

So it was all fake. Of course it was. How could I think it wasn't for even a second?

"You gonna say anything?" Anthea pleaded. "I'm not even supposed to tell you this. I was supposed to break it off today."

"How do _I_ know that?" I questioned, turning back towards the door.

"Draco-"

" _Don't,_ " I interrupted as her hand landed on my shoulder. I took a deep breath to try and keep my swelling emotions inside of me. "Just don't," I breathed, her hand sliding away.

When she didn't say anything further, I pulled the door open and took a step through the doorway.

"I told you this because I didn't want to hurt you anymore than everyone else already had," Anthea muttered, freezing me in my tracks. "At least believe that."

I took another deep breath and ground my teeth together to keep me from yelling at her. "Word of advice: if you don't want to hurt someone, don't lie to them at all."

I went into the house and closed the door firmly behind me, leaning up against it as I pleaded for my raging emotions to subside. A faint pop reached me through the door, telling me that Anthea had Disapparated. Half of me was thrilled to know that she had gone, but the other half of me cried at the thought of not seeing her again.

* * *

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny gathered their things, and I numbly followed their lead, gliding after them as they prepared to leave for Kings Cross station. I barely registered that we were moving at all. I kept replaying the conversation with Anthea, and I couldn't decide if I wanted it to go differently or not.

Harry, Ron and I parted ways with Hermione and Ginny on Platform Nine. The two girls slipped through the barrier that led to Nine and Three-Quarters, and Ron held up a map of Kings Cross. "So where's Platform Eight and a Half, again?" he wondered.

"Maybe on the Muggle Platform Eight?" I snapped as I gestured to a sign with the number eight on it hanging over a platform, only half conscious of my tone.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked. "You've been acting weird all day."

I took another breath to steady my voice before answering. "I'm fine." I checked my watch to divert attention away from me. "We're gonna miss the train."

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance before taking hold of their trolleys and navigating them towards Platform Eight. We watched as a few other people about our age plunged into the barrier like they were getting onto Nine and Three-Quarters. The three of us followed their lead and ran through the barrier, appearing on Platform Eight and a Half.

We wandered around for a few minutes, figuring out the unfamiliar platform. It seemed to have the same system as Nine and Three-Quarters. We handed our luggage to the train workers and boarded the train. We fought our way through the train's narrow hall and eventually found an empty compartment that the three of us decided to claim.

"What stop do you have to get off on again?" Harry asked me, tossing his backpack up and onto the shelf above us.

"Five," I muttered as I slid the door closed and took my seat. "You guys are three, right?"

"I think so," Ron answered, checking the packet of papers in his hand. "Yep. Three."

It didn't take long for the train to whistle and shudder, pulling free of the station, and after a moment Ron turned to me. "Okay. We're alone now. What's wrong with you?"

"What? Nothing's wrong with me," I dismissed.

"Then why've you been acting so weird," Ron countered. "You've been quiet and distant since Anthea came this morning. Did something happen?"

"You didn't break up, did you?" Harry wondered.

I sighed and massaged my aching temple, the conversation with Anthea playing again. "Well, technically we were never together. As I just found out."

"What?" Ron gasped.

"Why?" Harry added.

"Apparently, Anthea was only supposed to keep an eye on me for the Ministry and that everything we've ever done together was because of that and not because she actually wanted to," I said, straining to prevent the anger in my heart from leaking into my voice.

"Ouch," Ron muttered.

"What did she actually say?" Harry questioned. "Did she say the MInistry forced her to date you?"

"Not to date me. Just to keep in contact," I answered.

"If her idea of 'keeping in contact' is to take you out, then maybe she does actually like you," Harry suggested.

"I doubt that," I muttered under my breath.

* * *

The train traveled for several hours before it came to the first stop. A few people disembarked, but Harry, Ron and I stayed aboard through a second stop.

At the third station, Harry and Ron grabbed their backpacks and said goodbye. They got off the train and onto the platform. I watched them gather their trunks through the window. They looked up as the train began to pull out again, waving at me. I waved back, but as soon as both they and the station were nothing but dots in the distance, I slumped down in my seat and closed my eyes.

I sat through the fourth stop, watching more people exit the train, and eventually, we pulled into my station. I disembarked and gathered my things, checking the information I received from the school. There was a bus that would stop outside of the station that would take me and the other students directly to the school like the chariots that pulled themselves at Hogwarts.

I followed the directions and arrived at the school an hour or so later. They sent us to an orientation where they reviewed how the living situations would be and the academic rigor, though I barely paid attention.

After another hour and a half, they sent us to our dorms. I followed the directions on the papers I received and arrived to my dormitory quickly.

With the money I...donated to the school, I managed to earn a large, apartment-like dorm that had two private rooms and two shared ones. I needed a private room so I wouldn't disturb any of my dorm mates at two in the morning. I rushed in as quickly as possible and claimed a private room, closing the door behind me.

A knock suddenly sounded on the door that made me jump. "Hey. Anyone in there?" a boy's voice called.

I sighed and tried to get myself to relax. I opened the door back up and was greeted by a tall, dark-skinned boy with even darker hair. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Not a problem," he dismissed. "Long trip?"

"Yeah."

"I'm Shaun," he greeted. "Just got here and was checking to see if anyone else was here."

"I think I'm the first one here, actually," I informed. "I'm Draco."

Shaun's eyes widened. "Wait. Draco as in Draco Malfoy?"

"Yeah," I sighed.

"No way!" Shaun shouted, backing away a few steps. "I knew I recognized you! Dude! It's unbelievable to meet you," he exclaimed, taking my hand and shaking it vigorously.

"Yeah. You, too," I said, taking my hand back the instant he dropped it.

"I can't believe we're rooming together."

"Yeah, neither can I."

I faked my way through the pleasantries until Shaun eventually decided to pick up his trunk and take the other private room in the dorm. I retreated back inside mine and closed the door, locking it shut.

People better not react to me like that on a daily basis, or I'm never coming out of this room.

I got to work unpacking, though I didn't bring much with me. I moved slowly, my mind drifting back to my conversation with Anthea. I wanted to hear her side of everything, but at the same time, I wanted nothing to do with her. If she meant what she said about wanting to go on that date with me then _she_ should contact _me_ , right? _She's_ the one who lied. Not me.

Several other voices sounded outside of the door, and one of them sounded like Shaun's. "You'll never guess who we're rooming with!" he shouted. "Draco Malfoy!"

"What?"

"No way."

"You do realize that when he doesn't show up that you'll be very disappointed."

"I'll have to see him to believe it. Death Eaters can't be Healers."

"No, no! I swear he's here! Come on," Shaun's voice assured.

Was it true that "Death Eaters can't be Healers"? I might not have ever agreed with them, and I say I'm not a Death Eater, but like the papers and investigators kept repeating, I have a Dark Mark. I worked and lived and trained with the Death Eaters, so therefore, I was a Death Eater.

But I'm not now. The Mark might still glare from my wrist like a black sun, but I didn't have to feel its heat.

A knock came from my door again, and I knew that it was Shaun trying to prove that I really existed to who must be our other dorm mates.

I prepared myself for what their reactions might be as I opened the door. Shaun still looked starstruck, and the other four boys gave reactions that ranged anywhere from shock to joy to anger, though the anger seemed to belong to only one of them. They introduced themselves as James, Stanley, Robert and Walter-Walter being the angry one.

The five tried to get me to come out and talk, but Shaun eventually asked them to stop-which I was thankful for. "It's late guys. We're all tired, and school starts tomorrow. Let's hit the hay."

Walter readily turned his back to me and retreated into one of the shared rooms while the other three reluctantly agreed.

As soon as they were far enough away to not be rude, I shut the door and locked it, relieved to finally be alone. I checked my watch and found that it was indeed eight at night, and tomorrow was my first day of medical school.

I got in my night clothes and almost happily fell into bed. I was scared of what I would see in my dreams. I was away from Harry, Ron and Hermione, now, so it's not like I could talk to them after I had a nightmare. Then there were the other boys in the dorm. I might scream, and they might hear.

I sat back up and grabbed my wand, placing a silencing spell on the walls of the room. If I made any noise tonight, the sound would be neutralized by the spell. The fact brought me some comfort as I closed my eyes. I wouldn't be a bother to anyone else.

 **Hope you all enjoyed, and see you soon for chapter 47!**


	47. Chapter 47

**Hey, guys! I'm gonna be super busy again tomorrow, so rather than miss another update day, I'm gonna update tonight. Hope you enjoyE**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, though there is an OC named Anthea.**

 **Chapter Forty-seven**

I jolted awake as a knock sounded at my door. I was covered in a cold sweat, and my throat stung as I swallowed. I must have screamed last night.

The knock came again. "Hey, Malfoy. You up? Don't wanna be late on the first day of the term," a deep voice reminded.

I was about to respond when I remembered the silencing charm I placed on my room. I took my wand and dispelled the charm. "Yeah. I'm coming," I answered, wincing at my scratchy throat.

I got dressed quickly, grabbed my schedule and a map of the school and the books I would need for the day, stuffing them in a backpack. I swung the bag over my shoulder and came out of my room, closing the door behind me. The other five boys were already eating breakfast.

"Morning!" Shaun called, waving me over to the table. "You slept in."

"Not really if you consider that I fell asleep at two AM," I returned taking a seat at the table.

"Ugh. I know what you mean," Shaun agreed.

The truth was that I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, but the rest was fitful, and I woke up repeatedly, shaking from the nightmares. I don't know why I still have nightmares about Lucius. The last time he had hurt me was almost a year ago. Shouldn't I be dreaming of The Battle of Hogwarts or Voldemort? I should be having nightmares about the people who were slaughtered in the war. Not my own torture.

* * *

The first day of term was more rigorous than I thought it would be. It wasn't like Hogwarts where you could sit back and let everything fade away as the professors babbled about what the class would entail. Here, they gave you a sheet of parchment, told you to study it and dived directly into instruction.

It was difficult work. I learned about new spells and potions; and though I had to work with a partner in Potions, I managed to focus enough to produce the potion I needed to. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to pass.

I went back to the dorm at the end of the day, exhausted and with a pound of homework due the next morning. By the time I finished it, it was already ten at night. I grabbed something small and quick for dinner and fell into bed.

The next several weeks had the same pattern of classes and homework. The work gradually required more and more skill, and it built on the past lessons, making it more difficult. The homework load increased, and I grew quickly accustomed to the lack of sleep. The other boys complained about how exhausted they were, and I had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from saying that they had no clue what true exhaustion was.

I had only been in medical school for a month and I've already had two tests and an essay, but luckily, after those were done with, the workload lightened a little. The professors seemed to be nice people, and my Potions professor was extraordinarily casual. After a unit test, she said that she had no lesson plans. She told us to read a chapter in the textbook, and most students interpreted that as her giving us a free period.

I sat alone at a table and read the chapter, glad to avoid the other students. Everyone I've met in this school looked at me like I was either the greatest thing they've ever seen or like they wanted to kill me. It was tremendously confusing.

A bright light flashed in front of me, and my hand instinctively flew to my wand. I glanced up from the book and found a boy slightly older than I standing in front of me with a camera in his hands.

It was just the flash of the camera's bulb. It wasn't a spell sent to kill or torture me.

"You're Draco Malfoy," the boy stated.

Here we go. "Yep," I sighed, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms.

"I'm Colin," he announced. "I work for the school paper."

Colin?

An image of Colin Creevey flashed in my mind. His shredded tie and shattered camera. The camera in my memory, and the camera in the boy's hands suddenly looked too similar.

"I wanted to ask you a few questions. I asked your professor, and she's okay with it," the boy asked.

"Okay," I sighed, resisting the urge to groan and walk out.

"Thanks!" he shouted, placing the camera down on the table and pulling out a pad of paper and fountain pen. "How did you, a former Death Eater, first discover that you wanted to be a Healer?"

"Gonna stop you right there." I got to my feet and closed the textbook. "I'm not a _former_ Death Eater. I never was one. I've been answering these same questions since the Battle of Hogwarts began, and I'm a little over it," I snapped.

"Okay," he whispered, his voice shaking as he lowered the pen and paper. "That's fine. You don't have to answer. I'm just trying to get the facts and disprove any rumors. I also came to give you this." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small piece of parchment.

The boy held the parchment out to me, and I took it, unfolding it. It was a note from the school's authority asking me to come to the his office.

"Do you know why you're summoned to the Headmaster's office?" the reporter wondered, raising the pad of paper again.

"No," I answered taking my book and walking away from him.

I glanced at the professor and held out the note. She looked up from her paperwork and nodded. I left the classroom and made my way to the Headmaster's office and knocked on the door.

The door flung open on it's on accord, revealing a large, round room that reminded me of Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster sat behind his desk, talking with a woman who had her back to me. He looked up and rose from his chair. "I should take my leave, then."

The Headmaster walked passed me and out the door, closing it behind him. The woman turned around, and I instantly recognized her as Anthea.

My chest tightened, and my throat thickened at the sight of her. I simultaneously wanted to run out of the office and stay right where I was.

"I'm sorry I didn't contact you sooner," Anthea apologized taking a few steps closer to me. "I wanted to give you a minute to decide if you wanted to see me. If you don't, that's fine. You can walk out if you want."

I didn't say anything. I was still debating that same question.

"Guess I'll talk, then." Anthea came closer until she was only a few feet from me. "The reason we officially met was because I went into your cell. On my own. No one told me to. You going hypothermic was not planned or anything. After I left your cell that first time, one of my superiors saw me come out and dragged me off. We're not supposed to interfere with anyone in Azkaban beyond bringing them their meals and taking them to interrogation or visiting rooms or something. We're not supposed to go in their cells at all. Meaning that, according to my job description, I should have let you die.

My boss threatened to not only fire me but to strip me of my Auror status and brand me as a Death Eater sympathiser. I managed to talk him down and let me stay by saying that I could convince you to talk. And when you finally said why you have that Mark, I won their trust and was given a little leeway.

I got you that blanket because I didn't want you to freeze again, but I told them that it was to win your trust. I dated you because I wanted to, though I told them that it was keeping an eye on you. After a while, they were satisfied and told me to break off our relationship so you wouldn't suspect anything.

When you said you trusted me, I felt _so_ guilty. I did exactly as I was told: get you to trust me enough to talk. The only problem was that I'd have to break your heart in the end, and after your trial, the Aurors who were there talked about your memories. They didn't say much, but they said that you were tortured into being a Death Eater. I chose to tell you rather than break it off because I didn't want to hurt you any more than you already have been. I risked my job for that. The Ministry still has no idea that I told you."

I stayed silent throughout her entire speech, taking it all in. I finally got to hear her side of the story. I wanted to stop being angry with her-and my anger did deflate a little at her explanation-but there was still the fact that she lied in the first place. I was tired of not hearing the full story, and I couldn't help but suspect that she was still lying.

"You have to understand that I didn't mean to hurt you," Anthea pleaded.

"Are you telling the truth this time?" I questioned.

"Yes," she breathed. "I swear to you I am."

I took a deep breath and led it out slowly, trying to shove down my anger. She told me her story, but he had broken my trust just like everyone else had.

"I understand if you're still angry with me," Anthea voiced, glancing down at her shoes. "Just know that if you ever need a friend...If you need to talk or just have someone to listen while you vent, send me an owl, and I'll come straight here."

Anthea closed the gap between us and held out a stiff hand, cautiously pulling me into a one-armed embrace that I didn't return.

"Good luck with school," she muttered walking out of the office.

* * *

Over the next few days, I replayed the conversation with Anthea over and over again in my mind. I searched for any inconsistencies but found nothing. I couldn't get her words out of my head. She sounded so genuine, but the thought of trusting her again made me nauseous. How could I trust her after she had lied to me like my parents and the rest of the Death Eaters had?

I was startled awake by another nightmare around two thirty in the morning. It was different than normal, but I wasn't sure if that was a relief or not. It wasn't about Lucius or the cellar. It was about the Battle of Hogwarts. The death and destruction in the dream was just how I remembered it in reality. The only difference was that Anthea was there. She was a Death Eater and fighting against me. I had to kill her.

How long would these nightmares last? The rest of my life?

When us students become Healers, we will have to learn to talk to people-calm them down after trauma and the like-so we have to take half a credit of psychology as a graduation requirement. I've almost completed the class, and I was glad to finally learn what caused my hand to shake. The Battle of Hogwarts, Death Eater training and what happened in the cellar must have left me with PTSD. These nightmares and the tremor in my hand were testament to that. Given time, both might disappear, but how long would I have to wait?

It was said that talking helps, but no one would understand unless I dived into detail that I never wanted to think about let alone talk about.

" _Just know that if you ever need a friend...If you need to talk or just have someone to listen while you vent, send me an owl, and I'll come straight here."_

* * *

When morning officially came, I went throughout my normal routine of classes, but when it was time for lunch, I slipped into the owlery and wrote and sealed a letter. I tied the note to an owl's leg and paid him in a crumb of bread. He screeched in thanks and fluttered out of the window.

I returned to my classes and ate dinner in the school's canteen at the end of the day. Two of my roommates caught up with me as I headed back to the dorm, and all three of us froze in surprise when the door swung open to reveal Anthea reading one of my medical books on the sofa.

She glanced up briefly and closed the book, tossing it on the coffee table. "It's official. I do not understand healing magic."

"Well, hey there," Shaun greeted, the look in his eye making me want to hit him.

"Hi. And though I'd love to chat, I'm here for Draco," she dismissed, gesturing to me. "There a private place we can go to talk?"

"Yeah," I muttered, indicating the door to my room.

"Cool," Anthea agreed, starting towards the door.

"Good on ya, mate," Shaun whispered as he playfully punched my shoulder.

I rolled my eyes as he quickly retreated into his room, giving me a wink as he closed the door.

I picked up my textbook from where Anthea dropped it on the table and entered my room, finding Anthea laying down on the bed. I closed the door behind me as she sat up.

"Honestly I'm surprised you contacted me so quickly," she said.

"I'm surprised you came so quickly," I returned. I placed my books on the desk and flipped the chair around to take a seat in front of her.

"It might not seem like it, but it's really easy to get someone to cover for you in Azkaban," Anthea informed. "There're three times as many guards as prisoners, and with the Dementors and magic we've got around the cells, there is zero way anyone can escape."

"Unless you're Sirius Black," I reminded.

"Or a Death Eater with a Dark Lord who can control Dementors on your side," she added.

The two of us fell quiet as I decided how to start. I had no clue how to talk to her when I first met her, and now it was worse. I didn't know if I could trust her, but I had to learn to stop second-guessing everything and everyone. I wasn't in the depths of Death Eater territory anymore. People weren't out to betray me. Or at least, that's what I told myself. It didn't help with the feeling of constant anxiety and the nightmares.

"So how's healing going?" Anthea wondered, finally breaking the silence.

"Good. Fine," I answered. "It's a lot of work, but I knew a bit more than other first year students did coming in, so that made it a bit easier."

"Had to pull any all-nighters yet?"

"One or two." I suppose here was as good of a place to start as any. "I overhear all of the other students complain about how tired they are, and I have to practically bite my tongue to keep me from proving them wrong."

"What do you mean 'prove them wrong'?" Anthea asked.

My hand started to shake as I thought about it, but as Harry, Ron and Hermione kept telling me, I had to get it out somehow. "I was just always so anxious when I was living with the Death Eaters and my parents that I couldn't ever sleep," I muttered. "I'd go for weeks with only three hours."

Anthea nodded. "Must've been hard."

"Yeah," I sighed, glancing down at my hand. "Then I had Death Eater meetings the next morning, too, so that made it worse."

"And how did those go?" she wondered, a nervous and slightly disgusted expression spreading across face.

"Honestly, they were stressful but not much happened. Only one person died in all the meetings I had to go to, and Voldemort's snake ate her."

Anthea tensed and raised an eyebrow, shock colouring her features."Well, that's…"

"Disgusting," I finished. "In more ways than one."

Bile rose in my throat as I remembered the snake swallowing Charity Burbage whole. I had to put a hand in my mouth and clear my throat to keep it inside.

"I have no words for that," Anthea said, getting up from the bed and kneeling in front of me. "But I appreciate that you're willing to talk about it with me."

I still had that thorn of doubt nagging in the back of my mind, but it was nice to have her here. I didn't have to keep it in my head anymore. Reading a single word or phrase in one of my textbooks could inexplicably send me down memory lane, and without Harry, Ron or Hermione here, I was entirely alone.

Anthea smiled and checked her watch. She looked back up at me and opened her mouth, but I cut her off. "Let me guess. You have to go back to work if you want to get paid."

She snorted as she laughed. "Yeah. Exactly."

She got up and left my room, looking back at me briefly. After a moment the front door to my dorm clicked closed, and I was left alone, but this time, the fact didn't make my heart as heavy as it had in the past.

 **Hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you soon for Chapter 48!**


	48. Chapter 48

**Hello, everyone! This update is my last hoora before school resumes. I've got a big project that I have been whole-heatedly ignoring, so this is my last bit of fun before I start to actually work on it. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, though there is an OC named Anthea.**

 **Chapter Forty-eight**

Anthea came by the school on the weekends when I asked her, and she'd show up unannounced only occasionally. One Saturday she dragged me away from the school and treated me to a semi-casual dinner-from the Wizarding World this time. She was wonderful to have around again. I was more focused and less anxious. My nightmares persisted, but I had someone I could talk with about them, so they didn't affect me as much. Eventually, I even found myself trusting her again.

It wasn't long before rumors spread throughout the school. Some of them were that Anthea and I were simply dating, but others were of a more...risque nature. I suspected that Shaun and my other dorm mates were responsible for those. Anthea spent a while with me in my room as we talked about what happened during the War and the Battle of Hogwarts, but from their perspective, she went into my room, I closed the door and we didn't come out for an hour or so.

Eventually, an image of Anthea and I appeared in the school paper, and I quickly sent an owl to Anthea about it. She responded that she wanted me to at least dispel rumors of us having...intimate relations, and I agreed, but I was hesitant to talk to the school's paper. They would undoubtedly ask about my Dark Mark or if Anthea and I were dating. I wouldn't tell them about my Mark, but I would have no idea how to respond to the questions about Anthea if they asked them.

If I said we weren't dating, I might upset Anthea if we were, but if I said we were dating, I might still upset Anthea if we weren't. I had no idea what our relationship status was. Were we friends, dates, neither? Were girls always this confusing?

Eventually, I got in contact with the school's paper and agreed to talk with them. They were overjoyed to hear that, and they quickly sent that Colin guy who tried to get me to talk to the paper before. It was only an hour after dinner when he knocked on the door.

"So glad you finally agreed to talk with us, Mister Malfoy," he greeted, as he barged in.

These school reporters acted just like the real reporters that constantly nagged Lucius with questions.

I closed the door behind him, and he quickly seated himself on the dorm's sofa. He pulled out a pad of paper and a long, acid green quill. "Don't mind if I use a Quick Notes Quill do you?" he wondered.

"I do, actually," I answered. I didn't know much about Quick Notes Quills, but I did know that they twisted every word into an overdramatic narrative that was more suited for a novel than a paper.

Colin's shoulders sank as I took a seat next to him. "Okay. Not a problem." He took the green quill and stowed it back in his bag, pulling out the same fountain pen he used when I first met him.

"First off, I need to clarify something," I cautioned.

"Okay?"

"I'm not going to answer any questions about Death Eaters or anything similar, okay?"

"That's fine," he agreed, his eyes briefly lowering to the floor. "Guess that leaves you and the mystery woman you've been seen with. Rumors have surfaced that you and this woman have been...enjoying each other's company behind closed doors. Is that true?"

"No, if by 'enjoying each other's company' you mean having sex," I remembered how Lucius answered press questions. He always answered the question as directly as possible before adding anything else. It prevented the reporter from twisting your words.

"Then what do you do with this woman?"

"We talk. Nothing more," I assured.

Colin quickly scribbled on his notepad. "And what do you talk about?"

"No comment." I refused to tell anyone but Anthea what went on inside my head.

"...Okay," he sighed. "So then who is this mystery woman? What's her name?"

"Her name is Anthea, and I'm not going to tell you anything else about her."

"Okay." He scribbled on his paper. "Then, I honestly don't have anymore questions for you. Unless you've changed your mind about the Death Eater topic…"

"I have not."

"Alright then," he sighed, getting up from the sofa.

I stood with him and walked him out. I opened the door for him and shut it behind him, both relieved and terrified that it was over. I did what Anthea asked, but who knows how the school's paper would twist my words.

* * *

A week or so passed before the school's paper unveiled the article. As it turns out, Colin was gracious and didn't twist my words around. He didn't make it look like Anthea and I were doing anything inappropriate or that we were talking about the War. He kept it short and simple, writing exactly what I said.

The day the article came out, Anthea visited again. She was glad when I showed it to her and thanked me for disproving the rumors. It was a Saturday, and she took me out again. She took me to play some Muggle game called mini-golf. The positioning you had to use was awkward, but it was fun overall. I actually ended up winning, though I suspected that she wasn't trying as hard as she normally would have.

We were walking back up the path to the school, when she pulled me off to the side. "Come here," she whispered.

I let her take my wrist and pull me into an area that was shielded from the light of the setting sun. There was a small corner that she quickly pushed me into. My back hit the wall, and Anthea came closer to me, my heart racing. If I was reading this right…

Anthea closed the gap between us, placing her lips on mine. My heart jumped, and my entire body filled with an electricity that was, for once, pleasant rather than painful. She was soft and gentle, but my heart was still beating so fast that I couldn't catch my breath.

A bright flash made us both jump and turn towards its source, discovering a handful of people with bright, rapidly flashing cameras. They all shouted questions after question, calling my name at the top of their lungs.

I turned back to Anthea and sighed, feeling my heart instantly slow. "Perhaps you should go."

"Yeah," she breathed, squinting in the flashing lights.

"I'm sorry about this."

"Not your fault," she dismissed with a small smile.

Anthea backed away and fought her way through the crowd of paparazzi that looked to be a lot older than the students here. Their cameras turned on her, flashing faster and faster as she retreated.

"Hey!" I called, gaining their attention.

The press turned on me and surrounded me. "Mister Malfoy, is there anything you would like to say about your relationship with Miss Anthea?" a man from the crowd shouted.

"Only that you should give her the privacy she deserves," I answered curtly. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

I forced my way through the people and their pads of paper, self-inking quills and flashing cameras. I made steady ground until I finally made it through the doors of the school, though I was nearly blinded from the white lights of their cameras. I gladly made my way back to my dorm and was instantly greeted by Shaun and Stanley.

"How was the date?" Stanley wondered.

"And what were those press people doing outside?" Shaun asked.

"The date was fun, but I have no idea why the press are here," I answered. "They wanted to know about Anthea, but I don't know how they heard about it."

"Someone from the school's paper must've leaked information about your relationship to the Daily Prophet or other tabloids," Walter sighed from the sofa, a book in his hands.

"Yeah. Probably," I agreed.

* * *

Two days later, a photograph of Anthea and I kissing was on the front page of the Daily Prophet. There were smaller pictures of Ron with Hermione and Harry with Ginny, but the main story was about Anthea and me.

During lunch, I received an owls from Harry, Ron, Hermione and George. The trio of friends had questions, but George was congratulating me on "getting some", as he put it. I tried to answer Harry, Ron and Hermione's questions about how Anthea and I ended up in the paper as best as I could, though I had very little information to go on. I told all three of them about my talk with the school's newspaper, but I told only Harry and Ron about my conversation with Anthea in the Headmaster's office, and I sent an owl to Anthea apologizing again

The school's paper harassed me more than ever after the professionals managed to put Anthea and I in their papers, and the girls in school either avoided me and scoffed with disgust or sniffled and stared after me when I passed. I would be lying if I said the jealous attention from the girls wasn't enjoyable, but I paid them no mind.

I focused on my studies. I had only fifteen days until summer. I had midterm exams to study for and one final essay for the half credit psychology class I had to take. Unfortunately, the subject matter of the essay was how to recover from a traumatic experience, but I powered through it, being as vague as possible.

* * *

Midterms went well. I didn't get a hundred on any of them, but I didn't get anything below an eighty on any of them, either. I packed my things and left the school as discreetly as possible. Professional and amature photographers have been hanging around through the halls and the grounds for days, straining to get a comment or picture from me.

I boarded the same bus that brought me to the school and parted ways with my dorm mates at the train station. I opted to sit alone in a separate compartment until two stops later, where Harry and Ron would climb aboard.

I knocked on the window and got them to look up and see me. They waved as they dropped their things off. They walked up the ramp, and a moment later, they appeared in the hall.

I opened the door of the compartment and was immediately greeted by a hug from Ron. "Nice job, mate!"

Ron let go, and I backed away from the door to let them in. "Thanks?" I wondered.

"Told you she still likes you," Harry said as he tossed his backpack onto the rack above us.

"So?" Ron exclaimed as he took his seat.

"So what?" I asked as I sat back down.

"How was it? The kiss," Ron clarified as Harry sat beside him.

I froze at the question as the train pulled free of the station. I never had to answer a question like that before. It was the first kiss I've had since my Fourth Year, so I barely had anything to compare it to. "Hard to describe, really."

"Was it hard, soft…" Harry offered.

"Wet?" Ron added, elbowing Harry.

"What?" I wondered.

"My first kiss was with Cho in our Fifth year," Harry answered. "She was sort of crying, so it was wet."

"And when I asked him to describe it, that was all he said," Ron laughed.

I chuckled at the explanation.

"Enough about my kissing Cho," Harry ordered, hitting Ron on the shoulder. "What about your kiss with Anthea?"

I took a deep breath as I though about it, trying to come up with words to describe it. "It was...intense but...soft. I guess. But then we were interrupted, of course."

"I hate it when that happens," Harry sighed.

* * *

Once the train pulled into Platform Eight and a Half, Harry, Ron and I gathered out trunks and met up with Ginny and Hermione in Kings Cross Station. We hugged, and Harry, Ron and I congratulated the two girls on their official graduation from Hogwarts. After a moment or two, Mister and Missus Weasley picked us up and took us home.

Life resumed to the way it was before school. We worked in the garden and around the house, cooking large dinners at noon and eating them as quickly as we could before anyone else ate our share. I spat my toothpaste out the window and shared a room with Harry and Ron.

Hermione looked into taking up a job in the Ministry caring for and regulating magical creatures, and Ginny auditioned for a few professional Quidditch teams, but the most important thing that happened was planning for Ron and Hermione's wedding.

Ron was constantly anxious and kept Harry and I awake every night talking about all the things that could go wrong.

Summer was almost over by the time everything got moving. Hermione, Molly and Ginny fretted over dresses, while Harry and I tried our best to keep Ron calm.

I offered to help Mister Weasley pay for anything he needed to like a cake or a venue, but he refused, insisting that Molly would bake the cake and that they would hold the wedding at the Burrows. I settled for helping Harry and Ron get formal robes and giving Ron and Hermione a few thousand galleons for their wedding present to get them started in their married life.

It was so strange to think that someone-two someones-my age were getting married, and it must have been ten times stranger for Ron and Hermione.

The day the tent appeared in the front garden was the most nervous I've ever seen Ron. He actually threw up that morning. Harry, the other Weasley men and I did our best to calm him down, but nothing really worked.

I remembered a tonic that we made in class as a project meant to calm nerves. I got a hundred on that project, and I spent so long studying the recipe that it was practically burned into my memory. I snuck into a back room and put it together in an hour or so, pouring it into a cup and mixing it with water.

I moved back to the kitchen where Harry was sitting with Ron, who was looking as green as the grass outside. I got out a two more glasses, filled them with water from the faucet and levitated all three onto the table, taking care to place the tonic directly in front of Ron.

"Drinking some water will help," I said, taking a seat beside him.

"Thanks, but just thinking about drinking anything makes me want to throw up again," Ron refused.

"You lost a lot of water throwing up this morning," I encouraged. "Drinking some more will settle your stomach." I took hold of a glass and took a sip out of it, showing him that it was okay.

"Yeah, Ron. Listen to the doctor," Harry agreed.

Ron hesitated but eventually took hold of the tonic-filled glass and took several slow sipps. Luckily, that was all he needed to drink for the tonic to work.

Ron sighed contently and put the glass back down, the colour coming back to his cheeks.

"Better?" I asked.

"Yeah. Loads."

"Good," Harry exclaimed. "Then let's get you dressed."

Ron nodded and got up from the table, wandering towards the stairs.

Harry instantly turned to me. "What did you put in his drink?"

I smirked. "Just a tonic for his nerves. We made it as a project, and I got a hundred on it, so I figured it wouldn't do any harm. Look at him. He's so nervous about this he literally threw up. It'll wear of in a few hours. He'll be fine," I assured, taking Ron's glass and dumping the contents down the sink so no one else could drink it.

* * *

Harry and I were dressed in formal black and white suits, and we guided the guests that quickly arrived through the garden and under the tent. There were so many of them. I knew the Weasleys were a large family, but I never imagined that there were this many of them.

Eventually, appearances of the large family slowed and other people arrived: friends from school. Dean, Seamus, Luna, Neville, and even teachers and staff like Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomphrey were invited.

Pomphrey made a point about having me guide her to her seat. "How are your studies going?" she asked.

"Good," I answered, showing her her seat.

"Saw you and that girl on the front page-Anthea, right?-so I'd say they're going more than 'good'," she countered, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed and clenched my jaw at the mention of that front page story. I was still irritated at the press for making a big deal out of it.

"Draco!" a woman called, and I turned to find Anthea-wearing a very nice lavender dress-running up to me. Once she reached me, she pulled me into a tight embrace and laughed. "Good to see you."

"Yeah, you too," I sighed as she pecked me on the lips, only slightly self-conscious of the fact that we were in public. "Got you a seat next to me, by the way, but I've got to be an usher for a bit."

"That's fine," she dismissed. "I _can_ make small talk, you know."

Annthea ran off and talked with another group of girls, and Madam Pomphrey cleared her throat behind me.

I glanced towards her, and she gave me a knowing smirk. I rolled my eyes as she chuckled and took her seat.

* * *

Anthea and I sat together with everyone else, waiting for the ceremony to start. Harry and Ron stood up on the raised platform with a man behind them in specialized robes. Harry took deep breaths and repeatedly clasped and unclasped his hands, looking more scared than Ron.

"Ron doesn't look as nervous as he should," Anthea whispered.

"Yeah," I breathed. "I kind of drugged him."

"What?"

"He threw up this morning, so I made him a tonic that calmed nerves, and I slipped it into his drink. It'll wear off in…" I checked my watch, "an hour. Until then, he's practically incapable of being nervous."

"You snake," she laughed quietly as she playfully slapped my shoulder. "You might not be a Death Eater, Draco, but you're still a Slytherin."

Music rose throughout the tent, and everyone stood, turning towards the aisle. A moment later, Hermione appeared in the tent's entrance. She looked gorgeous. Her usually wild hair was tamed into long thick curls that cascaded passed her shoulders. Her sparkling white dress was sleeveless and trailed behind her, the train being carried by a small red-headed girl.

Ginny walked down the aisle, gripping a bouquet in her hand. Hermione followed after her on the arm of a man I've never seen before. The man had tears in his eyes, and he was gripping Hermione's arm tensely. He must be her father.

Hermione's father embraced his daughter at the foot of the platform and kissed her hand. He took Ron's hand and closed it on top of Hermione's. He hesitated before walking off and sitting by a woman that already had a tissue in hand.

Hermione stepped onto the platform and handed her large bouquet to Ginny, taking Ron's other hand.

The wizard behind the pair began the ceremony that passed by much too quickly. Hermione and Ron had said "I Do" and were kissing before I knew it. Pink flower petals fluttered down from the tent's ceiling and everyone stood to cheer, throwing rice as they did.

* * *

The chairs were cleared to make room for a dance floor, and tables magically appeared along the edges of the tent as the sun set. The newly weded couple had their first dance, and then the party commenced. The hundreds of attendees danced and drank the entire night away, and it wasn't long before Hermione announced that she was throwing the bouquet.

The unmarried women at the reception instantly gathered together, every one of them waving their arms to catch it. Hermione turned her back to the crowd of women with a smile as I took a seat at a a nearby table. Hermione prepared to toss the bouquet with a few swings before launching it as far as she could behind her.

The girls screamed as it soared overhead, only to gasp as it plopped on a table. My table.

"Looks like Draco's getting married!" George shouted.

My cheeks went hot with flush as Anthea stared at me from the collection of women with a smirk on her lips.

* * *

Anthea went back to work, Harry and I went back to school, Ginny tried out for another team, and Ron and Hermione took a few weeks off for a honeymoon that I did not want to hear about.

Anthea continued to visit me on the weekends at school, and though classes got continually more difficult, she was a welcome distraction. She helped me remain focused and cope with all that happened with her kind and sarcastic nature. Our dates became more and more frequent and so did the times we kissed. I managed to slip by the press and keep the evolution of our relationship a secret.

Ron and Hermione returned after a few weeks, and Ginny officially got onto the Quidditch team: Holyhead Harpies.

And after a few more months-almost a year-I started to think about proposing to Anthea.

I brought it up to Harry and Ron during the summer of Ron and Hermione's first anniversary. Though the couple got a hotel room away from the Burrows, they came around during the day. The two boys encouraged me to propose-almost yelled it throughout the whole house, so it didn't take long for George to hear and give me grief about it.

There were so many things to consider that I was almost panicking. I wasn't sure if I should wait or do it before quickly I lost my nerve. I didn't know when to do it or how. Anthea didn't seem like the type of person to want a big, romantic gesture or a large, shining diamond ring that drew attention.

Now I know exactly why Ron was so nervous.

 **Writing Rominie's wedding scene made me tear up. I glossed over it a bit because I was practically crying while writing it. Romione is my Harry Potter OTP. **

**Hope you enjoyed chapter 48! Only two chapters left guys! See you soon for chapter 49!**


	49. Chapter 49

**Hey, guys! I will be entirely unable to update on Saturday like usual, so I'm updating now instead. I might be able to update on Sunday, though. Hope you enjoy this fluff-filled chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, though there is an OC named Anthea.**

 **Chapter Forty-nine**

During winter break-about a year and a half after Anthea and I went on our first date and almost two years since we first met-Harry and Ron somehow convinced me to go to Diagon Alley and get an engagement ring for Anthea. I didn't mind them helping me along, and I wasn't in denial that if they didn't, I might turn right back 'round and never do it, but I was so nervous about it that my hand would shake like I was having a nightmare. I managed to talk the two of them into letting Hermione come, too. Hermione's hand was a similar size to Anthea's, so it would be easier to find a ring that fit, and I would feel loads better if I had a woman's advice on which ring to get.

The four of us arrived in Diagon Alley, and they forced me into a jewelry shop that had thousands of selections that were so overwhelming that if it wasn't for Ron behind me, I would have walked right back out.

"Come on," Harry sighed, dragging me further into the shop. "You've looked your father in the eye and called him by his first name. You can get a ring for your girlfriend."

"I think I rather take Lucius right now," I muttered, swallowing deeply.

"Well, from what I know about her," Hermione began, "you'd want to get something small. Don't flash your cash around and get her some giant rock. You know what her favourite colour is?"

"Blue-green. Like an aquamarine," I answered.

"Then maybe surround the diamond with small aqua stones around it?" she suggested.

"You're getting married?" a voice asked, making my already shot nerves jump.

"Yes, he is," Ron answered for me, slapping my shoulder.

"He's going to ask, at least," Hermione reminded.

"Yep," I breathed. "She can always say no." My stomach churned at the thought.

"She won't say no," Harry, laughed.

The shopkeeper behind the counter chuckled. "Well, I can help you get a ring but that's as far as my aid can extend. If I overheard correctly, her favourite colour is aquamarine?"

I nodded.

"Alright, so if you'll come over here," he trailed off as he wandered around the counter.

The four of us followed him to a large glass box that held an extensive collection of rings. All of them had at least one diamond and aquamarine stone somewhere on it.

The shopkeeper told us about each option, pointing to each ring as he talked. Nothing seemed good enough for Anthea. Some were too big and others were too small. The band wasn't the right colour or the aquamarine was too much.

I leaned back to Ron as the shopkeeper continued. "Maybe we should do this another time?" I whispered. "Or visit another shop or something. Nothing seems right."

"Nothing seemed right for Hermione, either. Especially in my price range," he muttered back. "But if _I_ can get one for her, then _you_ can get one for Anthea. You love her, right?"

I had never said it aloud. Not to her, and not even to myself. But I did. Somewhere between Azkaban and here, I fell in love with her.

I glanced back over to the selection of rings and spotted one that had a small diamond and one aquamarine stone side by side. They were both entertwined with a snake that wrapped around them, forming a small heart.

I leaned closer to Hermione. "What about that one?" I subtly gestured towards the ring I spotted.

Hermione looked towards it and studied it. "The stones fit her, I think," she whispered. "But I'm not sure about the snake."

I smirked as I remembered Anthea calling me snake on an almost daily basis. "She likes to call me snake because I'm both a Slytherin and I sometimes win at the Muggle games she likes to play without meaning to."

"That's so cute," Hermione said, a half-contained smile on her lips. She turned back towards the shopkeeper and pointed towards the ring. "What about that one?"

"Ah," the man exclaimed, taking it out of the box. "Normally no one wants this one because the snake is a bit off-putting. We were about to discontinue it, actually, so your price will be reduced. Does this one suit her?"

"Yeah. I think so," I muttered.

"Wonderful!" the man almost yelled. "Now, what size would you like it?"

"About her size," I answered, gesturing to Hermione who held up her ringed hand for the shopkeeper.

He took her hand, measured her ring finger and wrote down the size. "If you pay now, It can be ready in two days."

"Great," I said as he named the price.

I pulled out the bag of galleons I gathered before we came. I paid his price, and Harry, Ron and Hermione finally gave me permission to leave. I rushed out of the shop, the nerves finally releasing.

Ron laughed as he caught up with me. "Feel better?"

"I have no idea," I sighed, Hermione and Harry coming up behind Ron.

"I know the feeling," Ron sympathised. "You're not sure if you feel better or worse after you get the ring. You just know that you feel like throwing up."

"At least I know what I have to look forward to when I propose to Ginny," Harry voiced.

"When are you planning on doing that?" I wondered, glad to have attention off of me for a minute.

"I have less of an idea than you do," Harry answered. "But you caught the bouquet at Ron and Hermione's wedding, so you've got to do it first," he laughed.

"I did _not_ catch that thing," I refuted.

"It landed next to you, though," Hermione reminded.

"It's the same thing in the end, mate," Ron agreed.

* * *

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I gradually made plans for me to propose to Anthea. Hermione tried to make a joke saying that it wasn't a good idea to propose where we first met like other couples, but I was so nervous about it that it had no effect. We kept it quiet at my request. Not even Molly and Arthur knew about it. I was afraid that George would hear and try to "help". Winter break was almost over by the time the secret got out.

"Come on, Malfoy," George groaned during dinner. "Let me help out."

"No," I refused. "I'm not gonna have you 'help' with my proposal."

"But-"

"George," Molly interrupted, giving her son a stern look. "If Draco doesn't want your help, don't keep offering it."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "And Harry, Hermione and I have been helping him. We've got it covered."

Anthea was very proud of both her Muggle and Wizarding heritages, so it was logical to do it in a place where the Wizarding and Muggle worlds mixed evenly, but I couldn't find a place like that. Everything on Earth seemed to be from _either_ world and never from both. MuggleBorns and Wizards who were raised by Muggles like Harry were the closest our two worlds mixed.

In the end, the four of us decided to do it at night in the middle of nowhere so we couldn't be interrupted by press or anyone else. The setting and gazebo we chose reminded me of one of the Muggle restaurants we went to that Anthea seemed to really like. She loved fireflies in the summer, so the plan was that the other three would hide and produce small lights as I asked that would look like fireflies in the summer night.

I was so anxious about it that I could barely sleep in the days leading up to it. Proprietary said that I should have met Anthea's parents by now and asked her father. I asked her about her parents but she said it wasn't a good idea for me to meet them. She said her mother was extremely anti-Death Eater and that her father's only knowledge of the Wizarding World came from her mother. Anthea said that they might not let me into their home because of my Mark, and I couldn't blame them. From their perspective, they had no idea if they could trust me or if I was a spy for Voldemort.

Either way, I knew I would sleep better if I at least sent them an owl. I worded the letter as carefully as I could, explaining everything without going into detail. I was so nervous that woke up in the middle of the night to write it, spending hours drafting and redrafting the letter over and over again as I tried to find the right words

 _To Mister and Missus Baker,_

 _Anthea has told me that she has informed you of our courtship, and I understand how that can make you both uncomfortable. I do have a Dark Mark, but I was never a part of You-Know-Who's Death Eater army. I never agreed with them or the acts they committed, but my father, Lucius, did, and though my mother, Narcissa, was not a Death Eater, she agreed with their ideas about blood purity. Both of them and all of the Death Eaters surrounded me for years. I was forced to help them, but when the Battle of Hogwarts began, I took the opportunity and fought against them. I was the only one with a Dark Mark remaining at the end of the Battle, and that fact landed me in Azkaban. They didn't listen to me when I tried to tell them what happened, but I never lied to them._

 _I could never trust anyone for the past few years. My parents abandoned me in more ways than one, and Voldemort and the Death Eaters only ever hurt me. Your wonderful daughter Anthea was the first person I could fully trust. After a few weeks of being in Azkaban, I started to go hypothermic because of the Dementors' cold air and nearly died. Anthea saved my life and has been there for me since. It is difficult to cope with all that happened, but Anthea is patient and understanding. I trust her, and I love her._

 _I am asking you both for permission to marry your daughter. Though I am still in school, I have plenty of money and can get her anything she needs or wants. I can provide for you both, as well, if you ever need it. I am training to become a Healer and can protect her like she protects me._

 _If you are still undesirous that Anthea and I should marry, I understand and will not go through with the proposal. However, I do ask that you at least consider all that I have said and let me know of your answer._

 _Thank you._

 _Draco Malfoy._

I sent the letter off at six in the morning, making enough noise to wake up Harry.

"Have you been up all night?" he wondered as he squinted at the balled up pieces of parchment that surrounded both of our beds.

"Just about, yeah," I sighed, finally laying back down on my bed. "I wrote to Anthea's parents and asked permission."

"That explains all the ink you're covered in," Harry said as he put his glasses on.

I brought my hands up and groaned at the sight of the ink splotches that covered my hands. I rolled over and covered myself with the blanket. "I'll clean it off later."

"Don't fall asleep now," Harry cautioned. "Breakfast is in two hours."

"Exactly. _Two_ hours. I've still got one."

I let my eyes close, and the next thing I knew, Harry was shaking me awake. "Come on, mate. ten minutes till breakfast."

I jumped up, remembering the Weasleys' eating tendencies. I rushed to get dressed and brush my teeth and bolted down the stairs with barely a minute to spare. I took my seat as everyone else started taking food from the table and piling it on their plates.

* * *

On the last day of winter break, I received an owl from Anthea's parents. I was terrified to open it, but I had to. My mind ran through a thousand different ways they would say no, but I opened the letter anyway.

I retreated into my shared room as I broke the seal. I sat on my bed and crossed my legs as I pulled the letters from the envelope, taking deep breaths to brace myself for what they would say.

 _Mister Malfoy,_

 _Speaking as Anthea's mother, no one will ever be good enough for my daughter, but I admire you willingness to ask permission despite knowing what our opinions of Death Eaters are. I never imagined that someone with a Dark Mark could be forced into anything, and I wouldn't ever think that they could be remorseful. The Ministry let you go, and Anthea told us how you met when you were freezing in your cell. I remain cautious of your relationship, but what you said sounded honest. Anthea seems to love you like you say you love her. She talks about you all the time, trying to convince us that you're not a true Death Eater. If Anthea accepts, I am willing to get to know you on a more personal level._

 _Missus Baker._

 _Mister Malfoy,_

 _As a Muggle, I do not know much about the Wizarding World and the Dark Lord. I know that he gathered an army to defend him as he searched for Harry Potter, but not much else. Unlike my wife, I was always curious why someone would join an army like the Death Eaters, cause so much destruction and think it right. After reading your letter, I think I understand at least you a little better. I admire your openness and willingness to explain it to us. My daughter seems to love you very much and seems happy with you, so if she accepts, I accept._

 _Please keep her out of the news, though. You might be famous, but that doesn't mean Anthea should be. Thank you for not talking about her to the press._

 _Mister Baker._

I let out a breath that I didn't realise I was holding and slumped onto the mattress. They accepted. I wasn't sure if I was more relieved or shocked.

When I finally got my breath back, I pulled out a piece of parchment and drafted another letter, thanking Anthea's parents for their acceptance and willingness to get to know me. I reiterated that I would care for Anthea and sent it off quickly.

It was the best winter I've ever lived through.

* * *

I waited until the summer to propose to Anthea, and when the day finally arrived, my stomach churned painfully, and my entire body shook the whole day as Harry, Ron, Hermione and I prepared. I paced the length of the gazebo in my suit, trying my best to calm down, but it wasn't working.

I've fought in a war and nearly died on no less than three occasions-probably more considering that I don't remember everything that happened in the cellar. I was just asking a question, so why would I rather go back to the Battle of Hogwarts than ask it?

"Will you stop pacing?" Ron laughed. "You're making _me_ nervous."

"Well, my apologies if I feel like I'm going to throw up," I snapped. "Sorry," I sighed when Harry and Ron jumped. "Remember nothing big, okay? She doesn't like that kind of stuff."

I took the velvet green ring box out of my pocket for what must have been the hundredth time tonight. I knew the blue and diamond ring wasn't going anywhere, so why did I feel like it was lost the moment I took my eyes off of it?

"We know, Draco," Hermione assured, "so you can stop worrying."

"I was talking to George, actually," I added, still barely believing that he managed to talk me into letting him help.

"Hey!" his voice called from the tall grass that was quickly darkening in the setting sun. "I can be subtle!"

"Said the guy who chased me with a firework and literally blew up the O.W.L exams!" I shouted back.

"He'll stick to the plan," Ron said. "George is hyperactive, but he comes through when it counts."

Harry glanced at his wrist. "She'll be here in a half hour."

The trio of friends moved to the lattice walls of the gazebo and waved their wands, making magical ivy grow and thread itself through the holes in the lattice.

The reminder of the time renewed my pacing. Anthea was always exceptionally punctual. She would be here on time. Not early, which made me feel a bit better, but also not late, which somehow made me more nervous.

I forced myself to stop walking in circles as Harry, Ron and Hermione stepped out of the gazebo and found a hiding place in the tall glass. I took a deep breath and checked my watch. Five minutes.

What would I even say to her? I should have planned this better.

I've known Anthea for almost three years, now. Our interactions were always casual and easy, so this should be too, right?

"Draco?" she called.

I looked up at her and instantly decided that this was definitely not easy.

"H-hey. Anthea," I stuttered, taking deep breaths as I fingered the box in my pocket.

"Hey." She stepped up into the gazebo. "Why so fancy?"

"Uh. I've got a question to ask," I muttered, terrified that I was saying the wrong words.

"Okay," she said, taking a step back and smirking. "What's the question?"

"We-we've known each other for a while, and i-in that time, you've helped me quite a lot." My stuttering was starting to get to me, but I was determined to get through this. I will not stumble like Ron. "You saved my life the moment we first met, and gave me a companionship that I sorely needed. With all that happened, it can be hard to cope, but you're always there when I need it."

I glanced towards the grass where I thought the others were hiding and than looked back at Anthea as small golden lights floated up from the grass and filled the gazebo with a warm light.

I gulped down air as I pulled the ring from my pocket. "And now I'd like to be there for you," I finished.

I stood there for a moment before I suddenly realized that I was still standing. I moved to drop to one knee, but Anthea caught my shoulders.

"No need to get down there," she whispered, making my heart jump.

What did she mean by that? Was she saying no?

She glanced up at me and chuckled. "No need to look so startled either. I'm saying yes."

"Okay, good," I sighed, going weak with relief. If it wasn't for her holding me up, I probably would have gotten to one knee anyways.

I brought up the ring box and held it out to her, opening it for her to see the silver and blue ring inside.

Anthea's eyes widened at the sight of it. She gingerly drew it out of the small box and put it on her own ring finger. She smirked as her thumb traced the snake that held the diamond and aquamarine together. "You snake," she laughed, punching me in the shoulder. "You said we were going out to eat."

"Well, we are out, and if you want to eat, we can get that, too," I commented, earning a playful glare from her. "And just so you know, I did not make these lights. I kinda had a few friends help me."

"That's fine. Thank goodness you told me before I started kissing you though," she smiled, glancing around the grass.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and George popped up from the grass and ran up into the gazebo, shouting congratulations.

 **Hope you guys enjoyed! I can hardly believe that there's only one chapter left! I'm glad that I was able to write and post it quickly, but the fact that it's over is bittersweet, ya know? See you soon! Fingers crossed for Sunday update!**


	50. Chapter 50

**Hey, guys! Can you believe it? This is the last chapter of _How Did I End Up Here?_! I can't. It went by so fast! Thank you to all who read, and thank you so much for your comments! There are some people I couldn't get back to, and I apologize for that, but thank you for commenting! **

**Soon there will be "51" chapters, according to this site, but I hate to disappoint you. "Chapter 51" is just my future plans for writing fanfiction. Sorry! You don't have to read it, but if you want to know what I'll be posting/writing in the future.**

 **Hope you guys enjoy this last chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, though there is an OC named Anthea.**

 **Chapter Fifty**

I didn't have any family to invite to my wedding to Anthea, but the Weasleys volunteered-insisted, really-to be that family. I readily agreed to let them. Anthea invited her parents, her mother's side of her family and the few from her father's side that knew about magic. The fact that she couldn't bring her entire family took its toll on her, so I suggested that we have a Muggle wedding, too. The most surprised look coloured her features when I did, but she agreed, excited that they could see us get married.

I met her parents-my future in-laws-for the first time. Anthea was a lot like her father. He was very friendly-some might say overly friendly-and excitable. Her mother, on the other hand, was very reluctant to even look at me. She kept her eyes on my left wrist so much that it felt like she was trying to cut my Mark away with her gaze.

The day of our wedding, I took a white cloth and wrapped it tightly over my Mark. I didn't ever want to see it again, particularly at my wedding. I was going to do this. I didn't need anything sending me down memory lane during the ceremony.

The only real friends I had were Harry, Ron and Hermione, so Harry and Ron made up my half of the wedding party, and I met some friends of Anthea's that made up her half.

The wedding was the same as Ron and Hermione's: in a tent in the front garden of the Burrows. We invited much of the same people as before, but as I stood up on the podium in the fanciest tux I ever wore and ready to throw up everything I've ever eaten, I spotted Blaise and Pansy sitting in the back.

"I invited them," Harry whispered. "I thought you might want them here. Did I overstep?"

"No," I sighed, glancing back at him. "I guess I'm fine with Pansy being here, but Blaise is questionable."

"Why?"

"He threw me in Azkaban, remember?"

"Yeah," Harry scoffed, "where you met Anthea."

"Ready, mate?" Ron muttered, walking up to us.

"Nope," I answered.

They both laughed quietly. "I'd be surprised if you were," Ron sighed as his laughter died down. "Anyways. She'll be here in about two minutes."

I instantly ran a hand through my hair to make sure it was smoothed down and flicked stray specks of dirt off of my suit that the barely-functioning logical part of my mind was saying weren't there.

The music started and Anthea appeared in the doorway of the tent. She looked more beautiful than I have ever seen her. Her eyes hazel were bright, and her chestnut hair shined in the winter sun. Her white dress was long with a lace train. It was modest, but it hugged her curves in a way that made my heart beat faster than it already was.

"Sorry I couldn't slip a nerve-killing tonic into your drink, mate," Ron breathed. I heard the smile in his words, but I paid it no mind.

Anthea's father led her down the aisle and up to the platform where I waited. He embraced his daughter and glanced at me. He gave me her hand and lingered for a moment before letting go and taking a seat beside his wife.

The ceremony went by so quickly that we were exchanging rings before I knew it; and when it came time to say "I Do", I stuttered so badly that Anthea had to finish for me.

"He does," she announced, making my cheeks burn as I lowered my gaze. "And just to get it out of the way, I do, too."

The collection of people in the tent chuckled quietly at her words, but I looked at her both gratefully and apologetically.

When we were permitted to kiss, she moved first and grabbed the front of my tux. She pulled me towards her, and her lips met mine. A chorus of cheers rose from the crowd, rice and violet flowers raining down from the tent's fabric roof.

* * *

The same process occurred as during Ron and Hermione's wedding. The chairs were cleared and replaced with tables. Music rang through the garden. Everyone danced, and when Anthea and I finally had our first dance together, I found it to be three times easier than proposing. Anthea tossed her bouquet, and Ginny caught it. If my marriage-it was so strange to think that I'm married now-was any indication, she and Harry are the next to be married in this tent.

Anthea's friends had dragged her off to the side and were chatting away excitedly, each of them grabbing for her ring-my wife's ring.

"Draco," a hesitant voice called.

I took my eyes off of my wife and found the source of the voice: Blaise. "Hey," I breathed.

Blaise cast his eyes to the floor before clearing his throat and looking back up. "I-I'm sorry about turning you in to the Ministry. I was panicking after the Battle, and you were acting so strange that day. So when I saw your Mark…" he trailed off.

"It's okay," I assured, realizing that I wasn't as bitter over it as I thought I would be. "I might've spent a few months in Azkaban but, hey." I gestured towards Anthea, my wife. "It's where I met her."

"Really?" he exclaimed, glancing between my wife and me.

"Yeah," I laughed. "She's the Auror who was guarding my cell."

Pansy bounced up to us and suddenly embraced me tightly. "Congratulations, Draco!"

Her cheeks were tinged with pink, and alcohol coloured her breath. It was enough to remind me of Lucius, but I forced the memories down. Now wasn't the time for that.

"Thanks, Pansy," I responded.

I was, actually, glad that the two were here. I got to at least start to make up with Blaise and reconnect with Pansy. We were friends five years ago before I was a Death Eater, and we were still friends now.

* * *

Anthea and I decided to wait until I got out of school to have any children, which was fine by me. I was only twenty and nowhere near ready for kids, but I threw myself into my studies anyway, trying to get through them as fast as possible while still retaining the information.

I still lived at the dorm so we could keep the fact that I was married out of the press until I graduated. I wore gloves to cover my wedding band rather than take it off, though I wanted to show it to everyone I met. My wedding to Anthea was one of the best things I've ever accomplished, but if the school press learned of my marriage, the professionals would soon enough. I honored my in-laws' wishes and kept Anthea and I under wraps and out of the press until I graduated two years after our marriage.

After graduation, I wasn't a full Healer. I still had to complete a residency at a real hospital before then. I knew everything I needed, but now I needed the experience.

Anthea and I quickly moved in together, and the press caught wind of it soon after. As time went on and Harry, Ron, Hermione and I left school and became official adults, the Daily Prophet and other newspapers wanted our stories more and more. The four of us got paid well to talk about the Battle of Hogwarts and the time before. I didn't dive into anything specific, but I told them what being surrounded Death Eaters was like, and as time went on, less and less people looked like they wanted to punch me on the street.

I kept my Dark Mark wrapped up and hidden under a white strip of cloth. A lot of my patients asked if I was hurt, and I always told them that I got burned cooking-which was entirely conceivable. Anthea can attest that I am a terrible cook. I tried once. Once.

My nightmares persisted over the years, but they were getting less and less terrifying, and the tremor in my hand gradually faded until it disappeared.

My life with Anthea wasn't entirely perfect. We argued over stupid things, but we could make up quickly.

After my residency was completed, I was a full Healer. I worked in the same hospital with the same people, but we were all full Healers, now. As time went on, it became easier to make friends and be social. After I got out of Azkaban, I wouldn't dream that I could make friends with anyone beyond Harry, Ron and Hermione, but I made some at the hospital because the main unit I worked in was the emergency room. People would come in after accidents or needed immediate care, having the worst day of their lives. There was a lot of blood, and though the magic we used prevented losses, it wasn't infallible. People still died in the hospital, and it had formed a sort of bond between all of us former residents.

I spent every lunch break with the few friends I made, eating and talking, sometimes cracking jokes. We were rarely interrupted, so when someone new walked up to our table, it threw me off.

"Hermione?" I wondered as she took a seat. I've never seen her or any of the others at the hospital. She seemed to be alright, so what was she doing here?

"Hey, Draco," she returned. "Before you ask if I'm okay, I am."

"Alright," I sighed. "Then what do you need?"

She glanced at the friends who I was sitting with. "Is there somewhere private we can go to talk?"

"I don't have an office or anything, but I think we can kick my boss out of hers for a few minutes," I offered, rising from my seat.

Hermione followed me through the corridors of the hospital. I received greetings and waves from other Healers and patients who had to stay overnight or longer, but we arrived at the hospital's ER office quickly. I knocked, and a quick "come in" answered.

I opened the door and found Jane looking over a few files. "Hey, Jane," I said, entering her office with Hermione behind me.

"What can I do for you, Draco?" she muttered distractedly.

"Hermione requested a private place to talk. I don't have an office, and it's lunch-which is where you're supposed to be anyways-so I was wondering if we could borrow yours," I explained.

Jane didn't look up but glanced at the watch on her wrist. "I suppose I can give you a half hour in here," she sighed, rising from her chair with a last look at the files. "Getting kind of hungry anyways." Jane crossed the room and passed us, closing the door behind her.

I turned to Hermione as the blinds clicking on the door's window finally settled. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Um," she cleared her throat. "Remember your Dark Mark?"

My uplifted mood instantly deflated at the mention of my Mark. I saw it every morning as I wrapped it up and every night when I uncovered it. I held my left wrist as I answered her. "What about it?"

"As I'm sure you know, we have captured some of the Death Eaters who were on the run, and the Ministry wanted to remove their Dark Marks, but no one knew how. They pulled in members from every department to try and figure it out, and I was one of the people called in. We...we did it. We've removed the Marks from all of the Death Eaters we've captured."

My lips parted as she spoke. They could remove Dark Marks? The Daily Prophet made every captured Death Eater a front page story, but they've said nothing about removing Marks.

Hermione took a deep breath before continuing. "They remembered you and your Mark and wanted to bring you in to remove it, but I volunteered to come to you and do it if you want."

She could remove my Mark. I wouldn't have to live with it anymore. I wouldn't need to have the constant black reminder of Dumbledore, training and the War burned into my wrist.

"What do you say, Draco?" Hermione wondered, pulling me from my thoughts.

I looked over to her and slowly nodded, still to stunned at the idea.

Hermione smiled and drew her wand. "Could you take off your Healer's coat, then?"

I nodded again and complied, shrugging off the white coat and draping it over the back of a nearby chair. I removed the white wrapping from around my wrist, revealing Bellatrix's scar and the curling black snake. My stomach still did flips every time I looked at it.

"Let me see it," Hermione whispered.

I swallowed deeply before stretching my arm out for her. She reached for my wrist, but the second she touched it, I instinctively pulled back. My heart raced as way too many memories leapt to mind.

"It's okay," Hermione comforted. "Everyone does that. We think that the Mark itself has some form of consciousness. A sort of self-preservation instinct."

I nodded and tried to put my arm out for her again, but something wouldn't let me. A voice in the back of my mind was whispering that she was going to hurt me.

"It's okay," she assured. "I'm not going to do any harm. Though the removing of it does seem to burn."

I took deep breaths and forced the doubting voice away. Hermione never directly hurt me-unless you count the punch when we were thirteen. I gradually stretched my arm out for her and watched as she grabbed my wrist. It took all I had not to pull back again.

Hermione lifted her wand and pressed the tip of it to the skull of the Mark. Her wand glowed a soft white light that felt pleasant at first, but it quickly started to burn, the Mark twisting on my skin. I hissed and shut my eyes against the pain, determined not to move until she was finished.

Eventually, the burning ebbed, and something left me. A weight of some sort. Like I was letting go of something that I've been holding onto for the longest time.

I opened my eyes and found Hermione lifting her wand, a black strand writhing from the end of it. The black thing hissed as it disappeared, turning to nothing but smoke and drifting away.

I glanced at my wrist and found that the Mark was gone. There was no black shadow colouring my skin. The only thing that remained on my wrist was the deep scar from Bellatrix's knife. I ran my thumb over the clear skin, almost not believing that it was really gone; that I wouldn't have to wear long sleeves in hundred degree weather or lie to my patients and friends about why my left arm was wrapped up all the time.

It was gone.

I looked back up at Hermione. "Thank you," I muttered.

"No need to thank me," she dismissed, tucking her wand away. "I just figured that you would rather have me do it than someone else from the Ministry."

"And you were right," I responded, picking up my Healer's coat and draping it over my arm.

I opened the door and held it for Hermione. When she left Jane's office, I let the door fall closed and walked her out of the hospital.

When I made my way back to the hospital's canteen, the friends I left there each asked me where Hermione and I disappeared off to. I showed them my wrist in response. "The Ministry has figured out how to remove Dark Marks," I explained. "Hermione just removed mine."

"Cool!" one shouted.

"Aw!" another groaned. "I kinda wanted to see it."

"So does everyone else," I reminded.

* * *

With the Dark Mark gone, everything seemed brighter. It was easier to get along with frustrating people and patients at the hospital, and Anthea and I could make up after a fight quicker than ever. My nightmares ebbed until I hardly had any at all. Occasionally, I would dream of the Battle of Hogwarts and the death and destruction that happened there. I would be startled awake in a cold sweat, but the nightmare was easily forgotten.

For the past seven years, there were multiple moments that I thought were the best of my life: ending Death Eater training, healing Luna, Ollivander and Hermione, fighting on the right side, being released from Azkaban, getting into medical school, marrying Anthea. But there was one moment that topped them all.

When Anthea told me she was pregnant.

We both practically jumped for joy, and I quickly informed Harry, Ron and Hermione. Ron and Hermione were overjoyed to hear about it, and Harry and Ginny-who finally married-were pregnant with another.

Anthea's first trimester went by wonderfully, and the baby's growth was on track. We were halfway through the second trimester when Harry and Ron visited me in the hospital as I was clocking out for the day. I was excited to return home to Anthea and check on our child, but Harry and Ron caught me outside the hospital as I was leaving.

"Hey, guys," I greeted, covering up a yawn from the long day.

"Hey," Ron muttered.

The two looked solemn despite the good day. "What's going on?" I asked.

"Look, um…" Harry voiced. "We have something to tell you. We've managed to keep it out of the press for now, but they'll catch wind of it soon, and we thought that it would be better if you heard from us rather than the Daily Prophet."

"Okay. What is it?" I wondered, slightly worried at Harry's quiet tone.

"We've, um…" Ron cleared his throat. "We've got you parents."

My shoulders slumped, and my heart jumped. Lucius and Narcissa have been on the run for years. I haven't even heard them mentioned for at least a year or two.

"We wanted to know if you wanted to see them," Ron voiced, "before they're locked up."

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming my nerves. "I'll visit them later. I need to get home to Anthea," I dismissed, moving to take a step forward.

Harry caught my arm and prevented me from leaving. "You can't visit them later. They're still Death Eaters, and the Ministry has a 'no tolerance' policy when it comes to them."

"They _tolerated_ me," I reminded, yanking my arm free from his grasp. "And Narcissa was never a Death Eater. She just agreed with their ideas about blood purity."

"You were the only one they captured after the Battle of Hogwarts," Ron voiced. "They wanted to know if you had any information about where the Death Eaters were hiding, so they were a bit more lenient with you in Azkaban. And after reviewing your memories and finding out that you were coerced, they couldn't legally hold you."

"But your father is not only a Death Eater but a fugitive, and your mother ran with him. She didn't report him or anyone else for being a Death Eater, so they classify her as a sympathiser," Harry added. "They're going to lock them up. Forever. No visitors, no anything."

"The only time they'll be let out is for their trial, but unless Lucius is proven to have been forced like you, and Narcissa is proven to not be a sympathiser, then they're going straight back to their cells. You won't ever be able to see them again," Ron finished.

Never? Despite all that my parents had done, they were still my parents, so the thought of never seeing them again made my chest ache.

I looked back up at both Harry and Ron. "Sure. I'll see them."

"Honestly, I'm surprised," Ron said as we started down the sidewalk. "After everything, you still want to see them."

"Not necessarily _want_ to see them," I sighed. "More of an obligation to look Lucius in the eye one last time."

The two led me down the street and two a Muggle phone box that they stepped inside of. I followed them in, watching Harry deposit Muggle coins into the phone. After a moment, the phone box shuddered before lowering like a lift and depositing us directly in the center of the Ministry's main level. I followed them through the surging crowds of Ministry workers and visitors and to the bank of lifts. Ron called one, and Harry and I entered with three other people.

One of the men who entered with us did a double take, glancing at me. "You're Draco Malfoy, right?" he wondered.

I nodded and hummed in confirmation, earning the usual expression that was a mixture of surprise and excitement.

The lift made a few stops, allowing the three other people to get off, before it brought us to the Department of Mysteries.

I trailed after Harry and Ron as the led me through the maze of black corridors. "How did you guys memorize this place?" I wondered, more to distract myself than anything else.

Harry scoffed in amusement. "How did you memorize all the spells and potions you use to heal? We studied."

"And I still get lost," Ron muttered, making me need to stifle a laugh.

The two stopped me outside of a door all too soon.

"This is where they are," Ron informed. "You ready?"

"Nope," I answered, my stomach writhing.

"You don't have to worry. There're people watching through the glass," Harry assured.

"That's not what I'm worried about," I muttered.

I haven't seen my parents in years. How would I react when I saw them again-particularly Lucius? I didn't know what I would feel. Anger, fear, nothing at all?

I placed my hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it, breathing deeply before pushing it open. I walked in and closed the door behind me.

I glanced towards the blank, metal table and found Lucius and Narcissa sitting huddled together, their hair knotted into a tangled mess and their clothes in tatters. They were pale and underweight-much like I was when I got out of Azkaban.

Narcissa looked up as the door clicked closed, and her eyes widened at the sight of me. "Draco?" she breathed.

My throat sealed closed as I attempted to speak, so I nodded.

Lucius's head shot up at the sound of my name and glanced around until he found me. "My gosh," he gasped. "You look so grown up."

I scoffed internally. "That's it? That's all you've got to say after everything?"

"What would you want us to say?" Narcissa asked.

"How about 'sorry for locking you up in a cellar with the Dark Lord for weeks'?" I suggested my voice rising steadily. "'Sorry for torturing you. Sorry for forcing you to kill a man and train in Dark Arts.'" I was practically shouting now, but I sighed and forced myself to be calmer. "There are many things you could say."

"If you want us to apologise for doing what was best for you-" Lucius muttered, but I cut him off.

"No, you didn't," I refuted. "How could you possibly think _that_ was what was best for me? I've nearly died more times than I can count. How on Earth can that be good for anyone?" My voice gradually lowered to a whisper as my spike of emotion deflated, leaving me drained.

As my heated anger left, I realized that I really felt nothing towards the two people on the other side of the table. I was dully angry with them, yes, but it was quickly disappearing. There was no longing for who they were before the War or even true hatred for who they are now.

I pulled the third chair out from under the table and fell into it, suddenly exhausted. We were silent for a long time, and for once, I wasn't scrambling to come up with something to say.

"Why are you wearing a Healer's coat?" Lucius croaked as he looked me over.

"Because I just came from work," I answered.

"So you _did_ become a Healer after all," Narcissa responded before glancing down at my left hand. "And you married."

I passed my thumb over my golden wedding band as Lucius straightened his posture. "Who's the lucky Slytherin?" he wondered.

"She's not a Slytherin," I stated.

"Then which House is she from?" Lucius asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Hufflepuff."

Lucius raised an eyebrow but didn't react otherwise. "At least she's from Potter's House." He spat the name.

I shrugged. "I wouldn't mind if she was. And before you ask, she's not a PureBlood, either."

Narcissa almost jumped and shared a look with Lucius. "Don't tell me she's a Mud-"

"She's a HalfBlood," I interrupted. "But why does her blood status even matter? Hermione Weasley-that girl Bellatrix tortured-is one of my best friends now. She might be a MuggleBorn, but she's more competent with magic than most PureBloods."

"You've betrayed our bloodline," Lucius growled.

"Not _our_ bloodline. _My_ bloodline. And I didn't 'betray' it," I returned. Lucius opened his mouth and looked about to argue, but I cut him off. "You're not anyone's father or mother. Least of all mine." I rose from my set. "Good luck at your trial. They reviewed my memories during mine, so it stands to reason that they'll do the same at yours. I've got to go. I neglected to tell my _pregnant_ wife that I came here because it was such short notice."

"She's pregnant?" Narcissa voiced.

Lucius kept his eyes on the silver table. "I-We're going to be grandparents?" Though I didn't answer, it didn't take long for Lucius to look back up at me. "You'll make a wonderful father, Draco."

"Yeah," I breathed, pleading that it would come true when my son was born. "And the reason is that you showed me exactly what to do to be one." They both looked at me with confusion. "Just do the opposite of everything you did," I finished.

I moved towards the door and opened it, a lot calmer than I thought I'd be. I stepped out and let it drift closed, sparing my parents one last glance.

"How did it go?" Harry wondered.

"After you stopped yelling, anyways," Ron added.

My mouth twitched up at his comment. "Fine. Better than I though it would."

Ron and Harry guided me back through the maze of corridors to the lifts and called one. They led me out of the Ministry building, and from there I went home to Anthea, who's belly was rounding day by day with the growth of our son.

"Hey!" she called, putting down her book and getting up from the sofa. "Where've you been? You missed dinner. I was starting to get worried."

Anthea embraced me, and I readily returned it, careful not to impact her stomach. "Harry and Ron stopped me as I was leaving work," I answered as we sat back down on the sofa. "They said that they caught Lucius and Narcissa."

"Your parents?"

I nodded. "They said that I had to see them right then and there because they'd be locked up and not allowed to have visitors. They'd be let out at their trial but then put right back into their cells if they're found guilty-which is a guarantee in the way of Lucius, at least."

"I'm so sorry," she muttered, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Must've been hard seeing him again."

"It was at first," I admitted, "but the longer I spent there, the less it affected me. I really...don't think I feel anything towards them at this point."

"That's good," Anthea affirmed. "Means you've moved on. If they can still get into your head, you're still living with them."

I nodded and let everything go with a breath. I turned towards her an placed a hand on her expanding belly. "How's our boy?"

* * *

The eleven years before we sent Scorpius off to Hogwarts passed by much too quickly. The years were filled with laughter and thousands of memorable moments. My patients knew me well, and they talked with me as much as time permitted. Scorpius easily made friends with Harry and Ginny's and Ron and Hermione's children, and he was overjoyed to start his First Year.

We gathered his things and piled them onto a trolley. Anthea and I guided him through King's Cross Station to Platform Nine.

"This is it," Anthea announced, gesturing to the barrier between Muggle Platforms Nine and Ten. "The gateway to Nine and Three-Quarters."

"You sure about just running at it?" Scorpius asked, clearing his throat as he attempted to cover up the slight tremor in it.

"Yes," I sighed. "For about the thousandth time, you run at it and you'll pass straight through to Nine and Three-Quarters." Scorpius nodded, but I took the opportunity to mess with him a bit. "Or you'll hit it and fall over like Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron did."

"What?" my son exclaimed, his alarmed expression making me laugh wonderfully hard.

"Draco," Anthea muttered, a note of warning in her voice that made me nervous.

"I'm sorry," I breathed as my laughter died down. "I was just kidding. You'll be fine."

"Dad!" Scorpius groaned, lightly slapping my arm.

"Look, if you want me to go with you, I will," I offered.

Scorpius glanced between me and the barrier before nodding.

"Okay," I muttered as I placed a hand on one of his shoulders. "We'll run on three, okay?" He nodded. "One. Two. Three."

The two of us charged at the barrier, and it deposited us on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters like it always did.

I glanced down at my son and found him smiling slightly, a relieved expression on his face. "See? Wasn't so bad, was it?" I asked, Scorpius shaking his head in answer.

Anthea soon appeared behind us as she ran through the barrier. "Ready to go?"

Scorpius nodded vigorously, his lips stretching into a smile. "Uh-huh."

"Let's go then," Anthea exclaimed, taking our son's trolley.

Anthea and I guided Scorpius through the crowds of witches and wizards of all ages until we arrived at the luggage check. "Anything you don't want to take on the train with you-like you trunk-you place here," I explained.

"I know, Dad. You've explained it five times by now," Scorpius reminded.

"So what if I want you to be prepared?" I wondered, filling my voice with sarcasm as I dragged his heavy trunk off of the trolley.

As soon as our son's larger pieces of luggage were stowed in the train's cargo bay, Scorpius wrapped his small arms around my waist and embraced me tightly. I bent down and wrapped my arms around his small shoulders. The moment we let go, he turned to Anthea and did the same.

I glanced up and spotted the four familiar faces of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. They smiled and waved, and I did the returned it.

The train whistled loudly, telling everyone in the station that it was time to board. "Ready to go?" I wondered, glancing down at Scorpius.

My son looked up at Anthea and me and took a deep, nervous breath before nodding. "As I'll ever be."

Scorpius ascended the stairs in onto the train, repeatedly glancing back towards Anthea and me. He found the compartment that was being shared with Harry and Ginny's and Ron and Hermione's children and squeezed in, barely fitting at all. He waved at us through the window as a Chocolate Frog jumped onto the glass and clung there for a moment before dropping back down.

I watched as the train pulled free of the station, my mind drifting back through my years at Hogwarts School. They was some of my most memorable and enjoyable years but also the worst. I made friends, stayed up late cracking jokes and pulling pranks on the First Years. I tortured, sick and fought in a war-killing countless people.

But my Dark Mark is gone, now. Lucius Malfoy was locked up for longer than life, and though Narcissa wasn't sent to Azkaban, we hadn't spoken in ages. I had changed a woman's last name from Baker to Malfoy, I became a Healer, and our son was attending school to make his own memories.

No one had hurt me for years. My wrist never burned as a black, snake and skull tattoo writhed on my skin.

All is well.

 **This is such a sappy ending, but it made me cry while writing it nonetheless. And I totally didn't use the actual last line of the canon book series that's from Harry's point of view in this same scene to show that Harry and Draco aren't that different or anything...**

 **Again, thank you guys for all your support! Hope my future fanfictions will be to your liking as well!**


	51. Future Plans

So! Future plans! There are two grantees that will be written and posted. They are both like _How Did I End Up Here?_ meaning that they are psychology-based stories that don't change the canon story-line. One for Loki Laufeyson/Odinson and one for Bucky Barnes of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Here's a little bit about them both.

The one for Loki Is going to cover the end of the first _Thor_ film to the middle of _Thor: Dark World_ and actually steamed from a fan theory I saw on Pinterest. It compared the scepter he used in _the Avengers_ to the One Ring from _Lord of the Rings_. In the end credit scene of _Thor,_ Loki looks relatively fine. A little worse for wear but fine. At the beginning of _Avengers_ , he looks sick. Like, genuinely sick. Someone actually aligned his symptoms up with heat exhaustion. He was limping, tripped over nothing, and looked like he was about to collapse. The theory stated that Thanos tortured Loki and got him basically addicted to the scepter. The evidence that was presented in both theories was very solid, so I wrote a fanfiction based on that theory, and I called it _The One Scepter_ because it compared the scepter to the One Ring. It's already finished, so it might be posted next week, though it is a lot shorter than _How did I End Up Here?_. This Draco one is a grand total of 234 pages, but the Loki one is only around 60 pages long and only 15 chapters. Don't think I'm dismissing his actions as the Avenger's villain, though. Loki is a villain. All this fanfiction is doing is suggesting that we might not know the whole story. I've found several deleted scenes from _The Avengers_ that confirms that Loki was being-I don't want to say controlled. He is no more controlled than the One Ring controlled its wearers. It would influence them and their decisions to help it.

The one about Bucky is called _Through a Soldier's Eyes_ and is currently in the works. It's going to cover the end of _Captain America: the Winter Soldier_ through all of _Captain America: Civil War_. It is pretty difficult to write and no where near ready. I also have no editor/beta reader, so I have no idea how any of it sounds. Writing it is also breaking my heart. It's Bucky after the Winter Soldier. He's got several boatloads of PTSD and other issues, so it's pretty sad.

I also have two other ideas that I have not even started yet. One is a two part crossover between Danny Phantom, Gravity Falls and Over the Garden Wall. I haven't worked out much, but part one would be Danny Phantom/Gravity Falls, and part two would be Danny Phantom/Over the Garden Wall. The other idea is a funny, random thing I made up with my friend in which Tony Stark invents a time machine just to see if he could. He goes back in time and meets pre-serum Bucky and Steve, and he takes them back to modern times. Young Bucky and Steve meet older Bucky and Steve and the four of them team up the the Avengers to save the world or some crap. I don't know. This one probably won't be done for a long time, but I think the idea is funny.

Hope it all works out, and thank you guys so much again for your support and reading!


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